


if you get lost, you can always be found (just know you're not alone)

by safeandsound13



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Daddy!Oliver, F/M, Family, Friendship, Love, OT3, Team Arrow, alternative universe, mommy!felicity, otfamily, parents!olicity, roy as an orphan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-29 15:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3902089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safeandsound13/pseuds/safeandsound13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oliver Queen and his former-IT-specialist-turned-assistant kidnap a twelve year old. Is that honestly the worst headline concerning you that you’ve ever heard of?”  or Felicity finds Roy and would like to keep him and Oliver just wants Felicity to be happy. Diggle's just happy Roy is potty trained.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. so show me family

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiiiiiiii this is my first time writing for the arrow verse, or well, the only time i've actually uploaded something for the arrow verse (i tried to write stuff before but it never seemed right) then i got this prompt from my friend max (we talk about this subject a lot) and it was likE A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN
> 
> ANYWAY this is going to be multichapter with little fragments of their lives together, not in chronological order perse. i hope its not too ooc but this is just THE trope that gets me going. roy is my actual son i love him very much but oliver and felicity are his real parents lets be real like dont even lie. i've wanted to do this for a while so i hope some of you like it:)
> 
> headsup: in this verse oliver and felicity are together sara is alive (bc shes my main hoe yo) and baby sara hasnt been born yet so its like end of season two but with evolved olicity idk just go with it . its because im a failure and dont do canon well okay??
> 
> this is based on the prompt handed to me on tumblr: au in which olicity take in orphan roy teenager or baby or kid
> 
> song is homeward bound / home by glee because im ride or die and that song is lYFE!!!  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity convinces Oliver that her excuses will be much better than his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song in this chapter is 'hey ho' by the lumineers because it was bound to happen sometime so i thought it'd get it out of the way immidiately

.

 “Where exactly did you find him again?”

“In the alleyway behind the Big Belly Burger downtown. He tried to steal my purse.”

Diggle tries to, unsuccessfully, hide a snicker and Oliver turns his head to glare at him. The slightly taller man puts his hands up in defense, an amused grin playing on his lips as he makes a move for the basement, “I’ll give you guys a minute.” His eyes linger on the tiny adolescent in between his friends for a second longer, before chuckling his way downstairs.

“I’m sure we’re breaking about five laws just by having a minor, who’s apparently a runaway, in a club that’s for 21 and over, let alone we—”

“Oliver Queen and his former-IT-specialist-turned-assistant kidnap a twelve year old. Is that honestly the worst headline concerning you that you’ve ever heard of?” She tilts her head a little, a small, teasing smile on her lips. He almost gives in but he can’t, because this is a tiny person they’re talking about and he’s done a lot of bad things but corrupting an innocent child won’t be one of them.

He ignores her previous question, offering yet another solution. “We have Laurel, she could get him placed into a good foster f—”

“No!” Felicity cuts him off, pulling a grimace as she does so. “Woops, I did not mean to be that loud. I mean it this time.” She blushes furiously, eyes widening before quickly covering it up by what she does best, “Listen to me, Roy, over here, my little buddy Roy,” she puts her hands on the red-hoodie-wearing-child’s (there’s a child in his club and Felicity wants to keep it like it’s a small puppy that was rejected by it’s mother. Of all the crappy things he thought the Arrow would have to deal with, this was not one of them) shoulder, squeezing softly to emphasize who she’s talking about, as if that wasn’t already crystal clear. “He’s in the system. He ran away from multiple foster families, stole food to survive and was in juvie for three months before punching his newest foster father in the face and making a run for it. Again.”

Roy turns his head to look up at the blonde, his brows furrowed together. He’s about to open his mouth when Felicity speaks, “I’m very talented with computers. I’ll tell you all about it someday.”

He nods at her in response, turning back to look at Oliver instead, face blank, and he notices the kid doesn’t speak much. Felicity had been smiling widely at the kid but when he turns back to her she’s closer to glaring. At him. Oliver. Her boyfriend. Because he isn’t jumping at the chance to show a pre-teen the perks of concealing your identity with warpaint and green leather.

“They won’t place him in a foster family, Oliver, they’ll send him back to juvie. Or to like, a group home. That’s like high school, 24/7. Now I know high school was probably like a walk in the park for you and all your cash and seriously good looks and athletic skills, probably, and I’m getting way off topic here, but, for kids like us, kids that come from bad families, kids that are different, it’s not.”

“He punched his last foster father in the face?”

“Sure, I basically verbalize an entire essay on why we should let Roy stay with us—that would’ve gotten me a solid A had I been taking a class on How To Convince Grumpy People To Do Things in college—and that’s what you take away from it. Amazing.”

Roy, the tiny human, he finally speaks up once Felicity’s done rambling, “In my defense, he’s was a real asshole.”

Oliver and Felicity share a look, one amused and another slightly pissed. To the universe’s surprise, it’s Oliver’s eyes that are amused. Roy’s eyes are just on fire. The kid’s got obvious issues. Oliver can’t say he doesn’t know what that’s like.

“Excuse us… kid,” Oliver says, and God, it’s not that long ago Thea was his age, how has he forgotten how to communicate with people… little people? He grabs Felicity’s forearm and pulls her over to the bar.

Before he can say anything, she beats him to it. This is not a surprise to him. You wouldn’t say so, but it happens more often than you’d think.

“Look, he’s an orphan. His dad died in jail and his mom overdosed not too long ago. He has nowhere to go. And I think he kind of likes you. He’s the broody type, you could totally bond over being broody,” she smiles, a lighter tone to her voice before it disappears from her face when it’s obvious her boyfriend isn’t budging.

“Oliver, he’s all alone,” she pleads again, looking in his eyes and trying to convey her desperation into a look. “We could just take him in and take care of him for a little while—”

“And then what, Felicity? We take him out on field trips to abandoned warehouses and dark alleyways?”

“No, we just, we just—make up a few excuses. Nothing totally unbelieveable like ‘my friend is going to sell sport drinks in syringes’ or ‘my coffee shop is a bad neighbourhood’ but maybe, like, I don’t know? We have to work a lot of night shifts because that’s when our line of work is most active. Which isn’t a complete lie.”

“You think he’s going to buy that?”

“He might. I don’t know. Does it matter when the alternative is having him arrested or live on the street like a criminal?”

“And in the meanwhile, he what? Does shots with Thea in the club? Or does he help you hack into governmental instances?” Oliver huffs, crossing his arms, pressing, “It can’t happen, and that’s final.”

His eyes soften a little, one hand reaching out to her arm; just because he can’t agree with her, he isn’t happy about having to kick the helpless child out and hurting Felicity in the process, “I’m sorry—”

She cuts him off, slapping his hand away before crossing her arms and mimicking his poster, “Fine, I’ll do it on my own.”

“Felicity.”

“Don’t think for a second think I’m going to give up just because you said no. You’re not my father, neither do we live in the like, seventh century in which you get to decide for me because you owe me. You don’t get to make decisions for me, Oliver—”

“Felicity.”

“No, Oliver, you think just because I’m a woman and you’re a man that likes to,” she warily looks over at Roy, who seems more interested in his burner phone than anything else, before lowering her voice on the next few words, “shoot up people with his arrows at night, that’s like  ‘ _oh look at me I’m Oliver, I’m manly, I drink beer for breakfast and like, use aftershave and like highkey love sports_ ’ that you have some kind of superiority over m—”

“Fe-li-ci-ty.”

She winces, pausing mid-sentence. “I got a little carried away again, didn’t I?”

He nods and it’s silent for a moment.

“We’ll take care of him.” He sighs deeply, running a hand over his head. If Felicity is going to do it anyway, he might as well get some brownie points out of this. ”Just for a little while. Promise me you’ll talk to Laurel and—”

Felicity breaks into a smile, a small squeal leaving her lips as she reaches out to hug him tightly, breaking him off mid sentence. Oliver pats her back softly as he makes eye contact with their newest addition to the team, even if he can’t ever know about being part of it.  

When she pulls away, he stops her for a second, lowering his voice. “What’s his name again?

“Roy.” She scrunches up her nose, “Harper.” Frowning at herself, she clarifies, “Roy Harper.”

“What did you promise him in order for him to agree to come live with virtual strangers?”

“Not to press charges. Oh, and I promised him as much burgers for dinner as he wanted. Also mentioned you ride a kickass motorcycle. Seemed to interest him.” She shrugs, like she didn’t just casually refer to a child might making a move to steal his motorcycle in the near future.

Oliver furrows his brows before shaking his head to himself, because he honestly can’t handle this conversation right now. Maybe later. Turning back to Roy and taking a few steps closer, he clears his throat.

“Roy, I’m Oliver. What do you say you come live with us for a while?”

The kid raises his eyebrows, his arms crossed, “Like I care,” and Oliver can’t say that’s not exactly how he would react had he been in his position. Still, he doesn’t like it.

Felicity nudges the smaller boy with her elbow softly, a teasing smile on her face, “That’s my boy!” Her smile fades a little at the expressions on their faces, "What? Too soon?"

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me what you think:)
> 
> ....
> 
> did that sound casual enough? im actually vERY NERVOUS BUT I TRIED TO COME ACROSS AS CASUAL HOPE IT WORKED


	2. god makes no mistakes, i made a few

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out Sara isn't that good of a babysitter. Surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another one:)
> 
> song in title is glory by jay z

.

“How was I suppos— _ow!_ —supposed to know he’d bri-ahh-ng, bring a grenade?”

“Maybe because I told you he would?” It’s not out of some sort of petty revenge she pulls on the tread a little harder, but it’s out of some sort of petty revenge. She’s not mad. She’s not.

He winces, putting his hand on top of hers, mid-stitch “I’m fine, okay? Just a scratch.”

“Just a scratch? I literally just almost had the pleasure of meeting you small intestines and you honestly have the guts, excuse me for that horrible pun, to tell me it was just a—”

“What the hell?”

Felicity’s eyes widen as she drops her needle, freezing on the spot, “Shit.” Oh no. This was really bad. Like grenade in the side, just ruined my favorite dress because my boyfriend bled all over it, I run around as a vigilante in green leather at night, bad.

“Roy.” Oliver simply states, sending Felicity what must be one of his I-told-you-this-was-a-fucking-bad-idea glares, but she can’t move to actually see. Fun fact: fear can actually paralyze you. He quickly makes a move to cover up his side, by holding a bandage to it, sitting up a little.

“ _You_ ’re the Arrow?” Roy doesn’t sound appalled or angry (not even a little surprised, that little..), the only two states of emotion Felicity knows for certain exist within him, but instead seems a little… happy? That can’t be right.

“No, I tripped down the stairs and cut myself. Felicity was just patching me up.” Oliver and his excuses. You thought he would’ve learned by now.

“Right, that explains the leather green pants you’re wearing.”

“Where’s Sara?” Oliver growls, the bandage turning a faint red as he stares Roy down. Sara was supposed to be watching him.

“She fell asleep watching some reality show about Armenian women,” Roy states idly, walking over to Felicity’s computers and running his fingers over the cold, metal table. His eyes are filled with wonder and she thinks she might actually _prefer_ a grenade in the side right now.

A year, Sara Lance. A year of long nights and carefully crafted white lies to keep their nightly activities out of Roy’s life and she falls asleep watching the Kardashians. A year!

She can practically feel the asskicking (oh, it’s going to hurt, believe her) Sara will receive tonight. By her. Not Oliver. No, no, Oliver will use his words. And Sara will suffer.

“How the.. How did you get in here?” Felicity finally manages to turn around and look at him, straightening out the skirt of her dress and pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. She’s mentally trying to recollect herself because this is not good, not good at all. This is just...? Do people have awards for worst foster parents in the universe? Because it’s a prize she could definitely go without, like, forever. Science fairs? History has proven she nails these. Maybe a nobel prize or field medal in the future? Yes. Worst Fake Parent Ever? No, thank you.

“I’m very skilled at picking locks,” he grins, as if he’s proud of himself, his eyes halting on the bow on display in the back of the foundry, “Also it helps that you left the door unlocked.”

“Damnit,” she mutters, being able to physically feel Oliver’s eyes glaring holes into her body. Maybe he’d also use his words on her later. Oops. She was not looking forward to that particular moment.

“Don’t,” Oliver says suddenly, as Roy reaches out to touch one of his arrows. “Don’t touch anything.”

“So,” Roy picks up an arrow, admiring it (Oliver takes in a sharp breath) and grinning that mischievous grin she knows all too well, “does this mean I’m not grounded anymore?”

“No,” Oliver bites back in response, figuring that doesn't really need any more elaboration, getting up with a small wince to snatch the arrow out of his hands, carefully putting it back on display.

"You almost set your gym on fire at school, Roy," Felicity sighs, because elaborations are kind of her thing, okay.

“Yeah, and Oliver runs around at night to shoot people with his arrows but he’s not grounded either.”

Felicity shrugs lazily and the words - oh, the words. They will definitely will be directed at her later this evening. Her and the words will meet, they will murder her and she will suffer but honestly her mouth and it’s lack of a filter is the blame here. “He has a point there.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please tell me what you think:)


	3. we've not yet lost all our graces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver, Felicity, Roy, birds and bees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay first of all what tHE HELL  
> thank you so much for all the support, comments, kudos, views.... i wasnt sure my arrow work was that fantastic so thank you!:)  
> i hope i can keep the updates coming regurarly (spellingcheck im too cooked from work) but i have finals coming up so i cant promise anything just that because of the schoolwork i have to do that i cant get involved with a fic i could potentially really care about ;)
> 
> like always if there's something i can do to improve this story lay it on me and if anyone has anything they'd like to see, im always open to suggestions which sounds super promiscious but i guess i am
> 
> okay just leave me be im a nerd  
> bye:)
> 
> song in this chapter is team by lorde

.

Oliver knows shock, he knows complete and utter fear for your life, but the horror he witnesses on Felicity’s face when she comes running into their bedroom that night - in her pyjama pants, hair down, fluffy slippers on and in complete panic - is nothing like he has ever seen before, that he would have to describe as nothing else than complete horror.

“Oliver,” she breathes, climbing on their bed and sitting down next to him.

“What?” He questions, repressing a smile, a little amused as he puts his phone down on his nightstand (Sara and her constant stream of videos of WWE and Parkour Fail Videos per text message could wait, really) as she grabs onto his forearm with both hands, patting on it to get his full attention.

“I found,” she lowers her voice - out of breath, chest heaving up and down - and cups the side of her mouth, “condoms.”

“Okay,” he half asks, not really sure where she’s going with this. Surely, she knows they don’t really use them anymore. Is that why she's so freaked out? Didn't they have a conversation about this?

“No, no, no,” she clarifies, swallowing tightly, “In _Roy’s_ room. Now I know what you’re thinking, but I wasn’t snooping! I was talking to him about his math test and he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and I sat down on his bed and there it was! No, it was worse. There _they_ were. He’s fourteen, oh dear God, what is this life? Why is this happening to me? What do we do?”

The look on her face was actually really hilarious, somewhere in between panic, disgust and depression and he can’t really help it, trying really hard to keep his laughter in before choking on it, finally. She digs her nails deeper into his skin.

“Help me!” Right. A solution to her condom problem. All he really thinks of is that she looks particularly cute in the moment, all freaked out and he leans forward to place a kiss on her lips. She visibly relaxes, but does not loosen the death grip she has on his arm.

“I’ll talk to him,” he finally offers, although he’s not really down to give the talk to a fourteen year old when there’s internet, but it’s more an effort on his part to help her calm down. It works because she finally retracts her claws, instead scooting closer to sit next to him, kicking the blanket off the bed before laying it over her legs.

“Okay, thanks, because I was thinking of doing it on my way here, but then I thought, what am I supposed to say? I mean, a girl, okay, you know? I can talk my way out of that one because I’ve been through it and I could explain that chocolate always makes the cramps better and that if you have a pimple the day before a date that toothpaste works every time and that your body is sacred but a boy? A teenage boy? I don’t think he’d go for the whole ‘ _oh,wait until you’re in love_ ’ crap because look at him, he’s a heartbreaker in the making, he’s a tiny you and who am I? Like, literally who am I?”

“You thought of all of this on your three second way over here?” He raises his eyebrows, smoothing out the blanket with his hand.

“It’s exhausting to be me, I know,” she sighs dramatically, leaning her head against his shoulder and patting his chest. “Did Sara send anymore funny videos?”

He shows her his latests texts (“ _can we please make one of these in the foundry, please? i want to kick your ass for the whole world to see_ ”) wondering how the hell he’s going to talk himself out of this one. Literally.

.

“Sooooooo,” Felicity beams at him, slipping out of her heels and throwing her coat over a chair in the kitchen before falling down on the couch next to him. She props her head onto her hand, elbow leaning on the backrest. “Did you talk to him?”

“What?” Oliver pauses from trying to inhale his instant noodles (which was a bad four o’clock snack, he knew that but maintaining a body like he had meant eating a lot of carbs. And they were so good), taking his eyes of the hockey game in front of him.

“You know, about the,” she looks around, clearing her throat, softly, “ _condoms_.”

“You don’t have to keep whispering the word condom, babe, the condom police isn’t going to come out and arrest you,” he chuckles amused as he puts a spoonful of noodles in his mouth.

She ignores him (besides a small roll of the eyes), just stares at him for a few more beats (two seconds, he honestly didn’t think she would even last that long) before pressing, “ _Well_?”

He shifts in his seat, obviously tensing up a little, “You were serious about that?” He remembers his father after speaking with Thea about ‘it’ and traumatized didn’t even cut it. Everybody and their mother and their mother (thanks media!) knew he never had the talk, hence his womanizer reputation. He had thought Felicity would forget about it eventually. Roy was responsible.. enough. Kind of.

“What did you think that I was just kidding around about Roy,” she grimaces, “Fornicating. I wish.”

“Okay, first of all, never use that word again. Second of all, do you really think it’s necessary?” He offers her a bite of noodles by pointing his spoon into her general direction but she shakes her head, instead deciding on lecturing him about safe sex. He’s able to tune out of most of it, luckily. He loved Felicity, but brushing up on his trivia on teen sex was really not something he wanted to participate in.

“....the reports… among teens… shocking numbers… psychologist say that…chlamydia… one in three…”

About five minutes in, he decides that cutting her off might just be a better idea than her possibly finding out he hadn’t been listening. Shrugging idly, he says, “He’s being safe, what more could I tell him.”

“How about the consequences of knocking a girl up? STD’s? _Death_?” Her eyes are wide, wild even and he realizes this is freaking her out even more than he had originally thought.

“Condoms protect you against both of those things and I’m pretty sure death isn’t a common outcome of sex.” He smirks a little, “Unless you do it _really_ right.”

“Don’t say sex while we’re talking about Roy!” Felicity was just having a hard time accepting he was growing up. A really hard time.

“Felicity, he’s not twelve anymore. What did you expect?” He knew fourteen was young, but it wasn’t worse, like, let’s say, thirteen?

“I’m home!” There's noise, and a lot of it.

“It’s him,” she whispers forcefully and he resists the urge to roll his eyes, “Of course it’s him, did you think I thought it was Digg?”

She elbows him, hard, in the ribs (even though she knows he was hit in the exact same spot by a hardened criminal one one of their nightly adventures not too long ago) before beaming at Roy.

Oliver nods at him in lieu of a greeting, his mouth full of noodles once again and Roy just rolls his eyes, letting out a small snort.

Felicity straightens her back unnaturally straight, earning weird looks from both males in the room, nervously fixing her glasses. “Hey, can I get you anything? Some water? A snack?” She tries to, smoothly, rest her elbow on the backrest of the couch, but misses, and almost topples over in the process. “Maybe some of my pride,” she mutters bitterly to herself, through her teeth, smile not fading even a little.

Roy chuckles a little, sporting an amused look. “No, thanks, I’m just going to make some homework,” he waves her off with a small smile that he reserves just for her before disappearing into his bedroom and Felicity shakes her boyfriend roughly, loudly whispering, “ _Homework_?!”

“That does sound odd coming from him, yes,” Oliver admits, but it was probably code for listening to music or playing a videogame. Not masturbating while they were one door down from him, which Felicity seemed to be getting at.

She sends him a look, and they stare each other down for a moment or two. He is getting her message loud and clear. No words needed to know she wanted him to talk to Roy, now, or he could sleep on the couch for an undetermined period of time.

He sighs, “Can I at least finish my noodles?”

She glares at him, and really, he’s fine in his bed so he doesn’t dare to question her anymore.

.

“Is there any way you can record this?” Laurel voice comes through Felicity’s phone, laughing loudly.

“Well, I could maybe hack into his phone and try and enter his mainframe so I can manually override his-” She pauses, “Wait, this totally makes me a bad girlfriend, right? Letting him handle the birds and bees conversation with a fourteen year old. Alone. By himself. Without me. God, I’m the worst.”

“Oliver Queen,” she says out loud, more to herself than anyone and Felicity is kind of getting this vibe this one of their conversations where they just talk to themselves about two different things, “giving the sex talk. I never thought the day would come.” Another giggle.

“Should I go in there? Or would that be creepy? What if they’re talking about their.. stuff, or something. I don’t know, do guys talk about their stuff? I shouldn’t go in there, just in case.” Okay, so she’s losing it a little. But no one ever prepared her for this, she was thrown into this without warning.

“Are you sure he’s even the right person for this? I mean, he’s experienced in the area, but, is he really?” Laurel wonders out loud, tapping her fingers on her desk, “Do you think he’ll just start telling Roy about his techniques or do guys keep those things a secret?”

“We’ve dealt with criminals and murderers and psychos and Malcolm, who’s just on a whole other level, this really shouldn’t be that scary,” Felicity sighs, running a hand over her hair. “Somehow it is.”

“Thanks for the call, Fe, I mean, when I just won the DiLaurentis case I thought my day couldn’t get any better, but,” another sound of (diabolical) laughter from her end of the line, “you just made. my. week. Wait till I tell Thea, she’ll have a field day with this one.”

.

“Roy,” Oliver clears his throat, knocking on his open door and hovering in the doorway like a creepy uncle, “Hello.”

“Hey?” Roy looks at him, eyebrows furrowed at his stiff, formal behaviour. “Do you guys have to ‘pick up’ a ‘thing’ that can ‘only be picked up at night’ again?”

“I panicked,” Oliver defends himself about one of his infamous lie that Roy just loves to throw back in his face, all the time, before carefully positioning himself on the edge of Roy’s desk. “I’m just here to talk to you about something that… Felicity found. In your room.”

Awkward didn’t even began to describe it.

Roy’s eyes widened, “Shit, I only used it once, I swear.”

“Yeah, I hope so, they’re not really reusable,” Oliver mutters to himself just as Roy starts to explain himself.

“I mean, some guys offered me some at that party I went to Friday and I was going to throw the rest of it away - “ Roy stops, freezing at the look on Oliver’s face, “Wait… What are we talking about?”

“The condoms Felicity saw in your nightstand.” Oliver narrows his eyes and Roy takes in a sharp breath.

“Oh my God,” he deadpans, the realization (and dread) dawning in on his face, “they forced us to take them home during health class, which I wanted to skip, remember, as usual, but Felicity freaked out when the principal called about my ‘unexplained absences’," he airquotes, "and lectured me for five hours.”

“Since we both don’t want to be on the receiving end of another one of those, let’s just make a deal here, okay?” Oliver sighs, realizing they’re both very bad people if they agree to what he’s going to suggest next but he’s not really one to scold Roy, looking at all the stuff he pulled himself. “I won’t tell Felicity that you're harboring pot, Kumar, and you’ll go online and find everything about sex you need to know, swearing to your grave the talk I gave you was the best you could have ever imagined and then we’ll just never mention this again, okay?”

“Sounds a whole lot better than listening to you stutter for the next half hour.”

“Watch it,” Oliver replies sternly but they both know he doesn’t really mean it. He pauses, an uncomfortable look on his face as he clears his throat, "Do you?"

"Do I what?" Roy frowns, looking up at the older male and Oliver takes in a deep breath, "You know...Have any questions?"

"No, thank you, Oliver, I'm great," Roy squeaks out with a red face before, finally, he adds, “Want to watch the rest of episode with me so she’ll think you gave it to me _really_ good?” Roy grins, like he just read Oliver’s mind, nodding towards his laptop which shows two characters from _The Walking Dead_ (somehow that show always make him feel more normal) about to break into a fight and he isn’t really going to pass the opportunity up to see somebody else’s ass get kicked once.

“We’re bad people,” Oliver comments casually, falling down on the bed next to Roy, stealing a pillow from him - who decides not to fight him (but sends him daggers anyway).

“Hey, it’s a small white lie. The world needs white lies to survive,” Roy retorts, starting the episode back up, his next remark earns him a firm glare and shove of the shoulder, “Like you guys not telling me you have a thing for green leather for like a year.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys liked it:)  
> lemme know what you think!


	4. i won't put my hands up and surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy has a little trouble adjusting to his new home. There’s bribe and flechettes, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this is still on time for mother's day for some of you..... school is literally hell  
> once again, thanks for the support! lemme know if theres anything you'd like to see:) would you guys like more olicity moments or like more familiy oriented ones?  
> song in this chapter is white flag by dido.

.

“And this… This is your room,” Felicity smiles, opening the door to relatively spacious room, themed and decorated with cars, trophies and race stripes - it had been Thea’s idea - and for a minute (or two) she thought it might be a little over the top, he was twelve after all, but once a Queen made up their mind there was really no changing it.

 “Thanks,” he mutters, throwing his duffel bag on the floor and taking a look around. Finally his eyes land back on Felicity and Oliver, still in the doorway, his jaw tightening.

“Do you like it?” Felicity offers an easy smile, brushing a loose strand from her face nervously, “We could take some of this stuff down if you want, it was Oliver’s sister’s idea but I could understand if you -”

“Do you want me to call you mom now or something?” He snaps, eyes narrowed as he cuts her off. His words are deliberate; he wants them to know he’s not here to make friends; he’s here to sit out his time until they get tired of him and move on to their next exciting new little project.

“Roy,” Oliver warns lightly, and Felicity shakes her head, putting a hand on his chest to keep him from saying any more.

“No, it’s fine.” She bites down on the inside of her cheek for a second, before she adds, “It's fine. We’ll just let you settle in and you can just come out for dinner anytime you want, okay?”

He only grunts in response, putting his earphones on which Felicity takes as their cue to closes the door behind them before she makes a beeline for their own bedroom.

“Felicity,” Oliver sighs, eyes sympathetic (part of him wonders what she had expected, part of him is angry he agreed to this ordeal to begin with, part of him just really wants to make her feel okay again) but before he can reach out to comfort her, she slams the door of their bedroom in his face. After a knock and no obvious protest, he opens the door, finding her facedown on their bed.

“Felicity,” he tries again, softly, as he sits down next to her body, carefully rubbing his hand over her back. He’s not really good with pep talks, or words in general. Unless he’s yelling. Then it just comes to him like hot flashes. This doesn’t seem like a good time to yell, though. “He… This is all new for him.”

She doesn’t respond, shaking her head slightly. “It’s me, isn’t it? I’m too,” she pauses, and he hears a small whimper, “I’m _too_ Felicity. I’m too much, I’m too—me.”

He chuckles lowly and he hears a small huff in response, “That’s not it, believe me.” He brushes his hand over her hair carefully, taking a deep breath, “When I… when I came back from the island I didn’t want to speak to anyone either. I felt like nobody would understand, they just thought they did. They _thought_ they knew what I’d been through and it was hard, but I managed. Barely. And I was an adult. He’s.. He’s twelve. He—he needs some time.”

She sniffs, finally sitting up, and reaching up to wipe a few stray tears from her cheeks. (She doesn’t even know why she’s crying—she’s never been a crier, especially not about something so small and stupid. He’s been with them for a total of three hours. Thank God she is not alone in this. She would've had one of those Britney Spears breakdowns 2 hours and 45 minutes ago.) Sheepishly she reaches for his hand, quietly informing him that, “I love you, you know?”

“And I love you,” he grins that special grin he only saves for her, a little lighter he adds, “And so will Roy. It’s just a matter of time. I promise. Everyone does.”

She snorts, adjusting her glasses, “Can you show me the receipts of that?”

“Well, there’s me,” he offers, after a beat or two, pushing her hand playfully, “I’m really the best exhibit out there that’s there’s no escaping Felicity Smoak.”

“Ha, like you even _tried_ to escape.”

.

 “We’re getting a kitten,” Felicity informs him. “Roy is sad. I get that. I’d be sad too if my both of my parents bailed on me and some loony lady and broody guy forced me to live with them. So we’re getting a kitten and he will love the kitten and then he will finally love me.”

“Bribe? _Really_?” Oliver grunts as he dodges one of Diggle’s moves, “You want to go there?”

Felicity sighs almost dramatically, “It’s been three months and I’m pretty sure he hates us both.”

“Oliver I get, but how can he hate you?” Diggle smirks teasingly, throwing another punch Oliver’s way, who blocks it, sending him a look, dryly, “Ha-ha.”

Sara springs in from her position in front of the punching bag, finally, multitasking as always, “I’m pretty sure,” punch, “Laurel was,” grunt, “joking when she,” highkick, “suggested it.”

“And drunk,” Felicity adds, twirling in her throne (which was actually just her desk chair but a girl can dream), fingers pressed together in front of her face like a pyramid, “But also right.”

“And who’s going to take care of this said kitten? Do I need to remind you we’re already working two full time jobs and fostering a kid that’s hellbound on not making it easy either?”

“Ah, come on Oliver, don’t be such a party pooper,” Sara snorts half-sarcastic, taking of her protective gloves, not even a little out of breath and reminding Felicity she should really try and use that elliptical at home one time, soon, probably.

“Yes, Oliver, don’t be such a party pooper,” Felicity beams excitedly, voice teasing. “Cats are practically the most independ creatures in the world. We won’t even have to walk it everyday and it does this cute, fluffy thing where it purrs and pets your leg with it’s head.”

“Is this kitten for Roy or you?” Diggle chuckles before taking a swig of water, offering Oliver a second bottle.

“Both. Mostly Roy, but also for me, you know, just in case if Roy should reject the cute, fluffy kitten that does the thing in favor of a life dedicated to criminality and not having any Felicity in it. Literally. Like my name means intense happiness and isn’t a cute fluffy kittens the very definition of that?”

Oliver open his mouth and is about to respond but all it takes is one fiery look from one Felicity Smoak to silence him.

It would take a whole kind of other look to convince Oliver the creature Felicity’s currently petting at the pet store’s a feline. “I thought you said we were getting a cat.”

“Look at him,” she gushes, looking up at Oliver as the dog (he’s pretty damn sure it’s a dog, one that will need to be walked) rubs his nose against Felicity’s leg, tail wagging excitingly. “This is what clouds must taste like, this is what’s at the end of rainbows, this is happiness, this is—everything. He’s so cute.”

“Didn’t you say kittens were the very definition of intense happiness?”

She raises her eyebrows, looking at him over the rim of her glasses, lips pursed in disdain, “Didn’t you say your name was Al Sahim, heir of the _demon_ , and Oliver Queen was dead?” Aaaaaand he guesses she’s never going to let that one go.

Oliver has to admit the golden retriever has it’s charm. Literally has to because if he doesn’t, Felicity might break-up with him, burn his clothes and break all contact. That’s how serious she is about this puppy. And okay, at least dogs are known to be loyal creatures and they could definitely use more of that in their lives.

And it’s an entirely different kind of look on Roy’s face when they bring it home; eyes narrowed in suspicion. Like the dog is their way of telling him he should start looking for somewhere else to live.

“What’s that?”

“A huge, hairy spider,” Oliver deadpans, Felicity stepping down on his foot harshly (in her opinion; in his he wanted to give her some more training in case someone attacked her and she needed to inflict _actual_ pain). That was not an image she needed swirling around in her head.

“It’s yours,” Felicity says confidently, holding out the puppy, before finally just bringing it so close he has no options but to take it from her. Roy glances over at the animal with uncertainty, holding it like you would hold a baby with a dirty diaper. “So what are you going to name him?”

There’s no doubt on his face or in his voice when he finally speaks up after a few moments. “Speedy.”

.

 He’s sixteen when he comes to her room early in the morning, Oliver off to a breakfast with his mom and Thea.

 “What’s this?” She yawns, rubbing some sleep out of her eyes as she sits up, leaning back against the headboard of her bed as she smiles brightly. He sits down next to her, a present in his lap.

 “I bought you something,” he grunts, avoiding eye contact. She reaches for her glasses on the nightstand before putting her hair in a messy bun, taking a look at the clock, nine a.m. on a sunday. Normally she has to literally kick him out of bed in the weekends.

 “I don’t know if I’m more surprised about the ‘you’ part or the ‘bought’ part,” she teases, as he hands her the package, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

 She puts it in her lap, rubbing her hands together excitedly, before carefully starting to unwrap it, babbling on as always. Even this early in the morning. “Is this that new pocket sized gummy bear keychain we saw? I know I had a near mental breakdown over that but it was so _tiny_. Oh, or those chocolates I like. It’s probably the chocolates, right? I love them so much, I would literally commit multiple crimes -”

 She pauses as Roy stares at her nervously. “Oh,” she says lamely, running her fingers over the small arrow shaped necklace on her lap.

 “Now I kinda wish I’d bought you the chocolates,” he forces out a chuckle, but it’s obvious he doesn’t think the situation’s funny at all.

“No,” her voice falters before she firmly repeats, “No, I love it. Thank you.”

“I just,” his face colors as he stares down at the necklace, as he swallows tightly, “I know you’re not my mother, but there isn’t really a cool-stranger-that-took-me-in-when-I-was-twelve day, and there’s your birthday but that’s not the same, because I wanted to - I wanted to thank you. For,” he pauses, biting down on the inside of his cheek as he thinks it over, ”So much.”

 _Mother’s day._ It’s mother’s day and he bought her a present. (She won’t blame it anything else but female hormones when tears gather in her eyes.) She leans over and hugs him, tightly. Really tightly. At one point he thinks she won’t ever let go.

He laughs, finally, loudly, patting her back awkwardly before she finally lets go of him. Changing the subject he asks, “Is it too obvious? The arrow, I mean? I just saw it in the store and thought of you and.. I don’t know.” He colors again, voice soft.

He thought of _her_. The hardcore warm feeling in her chest must indicate she might die any second now. She wishes Oliver was here. Her two boys. She thinks of Speedy, probably still fast asleep in Roy’s room, grinning to herself. Suck on that, Oliver. Her plan totally worked. Eventually. But she was right. Which is the important part.

“No, it’s so obvious that it's not. It's actually kind of genius,” she beams, before making her famous ‘o’-face, “Can you put it on for me?” She takes it out the box carefully and hands it to him as she makes sure all of her hair is out of the way. Felicity huffs humorously as Roy struggles with the necklace, “So, did you get Oliver the same necklace?”

“Didn’t he tell you?”

“No?” She raises her eyebrows, wiggling them in expectation as he finally succeeds and she shifts back to her original position, fingering the arrow carefully.

“I got him selfmade flechettes - I painted them green. I swear I saw tears.”

 .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #thethirstisstillrealafsohitmeup


	5. you're better than the best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy turns sixteen and Tommy gets him a present. Felicity breaks said present and gets high in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tommy's alive in my verse okay i dont care just pretend they chucked him in the lazarus pit like sara or something  
> this is au af anyway so why should tommy NOT be alive
> 
> love for you all!
> 
> song is by uncle kracker:)

.

♥ 172 likes                                                                                                                                                                          

posted seventeen hours ago

 **tommymerlyn** _Happy sixteenth birthday, punk! @harper_roy #volvosareforsavages_

 **notahacker** _Tommy..... you didn’t!_

 **harper_roy** _AWESOME_

 **flawlance** _@notahacker sorry, Fel, I think he did. It’s a bad idea, irresponsible and frankly, a little reckless. Also, we’re the best damn foster-godparents ever. Not that you asked, but still._

 **notacanary** _i don't even want to know what you're planning to give him for his 21st. can't wait.  
_

**theQUEEN** _hey, where’s my car @tommymerlyn? #iturnedsixteenthreeyearsago #worstbrotherever_

 **oliver12** _tommy... take it back right this minute ._

 **tommymerlyn** _@oliver12 sorry, no receipts, ollie! and @thequeen babe, you crashed your last car, remember? #brotherlovesyoutoomuchtoletyoudie_

 **flawlance** _be grateful I talked him out of the private jet he was going to get him :)_

 **thequeen** _i’ll take a private jet!_

.

“Are you okay?” Oliver’s eyes are alarmingly dark as he rushes to her side, leaning over the side of her hospital bed, brushing some hair from her face, before running his eyes over her broken body.

Roy snorts humorously, arms crossed, eye roll as if on cue, “Please, she’s completely fine, just ruined my MAYBACH.”

“And my arm, plus bruised a few of my ribs. I forgot my arm. Oh, and my favorite dress was ruined when the paramedics cut it open,” Felicity comments in an overly excited tone, waving it off dramatically before narrowing her eyes, “Also, I _broke_ my arm, Roy.”

Oliver doesn’t seem to think it’s funny. “Felicity, why in the hell did you try and teach Roy how to drive a car when you don’t know how to drive stick to begin with?”

“My always present, sparkling optimism?” She forces out a smile, shrugging casually.

Oliver sighs heavily, running a hand over his tired face.

“I think the right question is why was she not wearing a seatbelt?” Roy adds, obviously enjoying the fact Oliver’s mad at Felicity because well, she ran his car into a freakin’ tree. His brand new, expensive, personalized car. “Oh, I know, she was trying to reach for her phone because I wouldn’t give it to her and the seatbelt was in the way. Then she wanted to proceed by filming our entire _five_ second drive and forgot to shift gears, next thing I know - we’re rolling down a damn hill and into a tree.”

She huffs, mimicking his stance by crossing her arms over her chest (as well as possible with a cast on), “Don’t be dramatic. It wasn’t a hill, it was more like a -”

“Mountain?” He narrows his eyes, seeing the short life of his maybach pass in front of his eyes once again.

“No, more like a small bump that by the way -”

“A bump? Seriously? You can sleep at night with that lie swirling around in your head?”

“It wasn’t a hill!”

“You’re lucky you didn’t die,” Oliver decides to cut in after their bickering stops for longer than 0.2 seconds.  He adds, “Both of you.” He sends Roy a look. “I think I’ll be giving Tommy a call. If you excuse me.”

They both watch Oliver stalk of the room, as if he’s ready to suit up and kill a man. Roy raises his eyebrows glad the anger isn’t directed at him, “Someone is getting their ass kicked tonight.”

Felicity huffs, leaning her head back on her pillow, “Yeah, _me_.”

“I don’t need to know about whatever it is you guys do at night, in your bedroom, alone, the two of you,” his sentence turns into more of a mumble as he starts feeling more uncomfortable the more he talks about it out loud.

“I got that you were hinting at sex after the ‘night’ part, Roy.” Thanks for making it even more awkward, _Felicity_.

He breathes out deeply, eyes on fire as he tries striking back, “Isn’t it ironic how you basically help fight the worst and most evil villains every night and then you almost die because you can’t drive stick but don’t want to admit that I was right about it not being that easy?”

“It wasn’t a frickin’ hill.”

.

"Will you tell Roy I'm sosososososoooooooooo sorry for breaking his car?" Felicity sniffs loudly, a tear rolling down her cheek as she throws her arms around Oliver's neck before pulling back and sitting down on her knees, on their bed. "I just love him so much, you know, and he's so tiny - he's just _such_ a tiny little baby and now he's sixteen but he's still so tiny and I want to protect him. Do you think we can keep him inside forever? We should just lock him in his room! Oliver, we should just do it! Please! That way he can't escape us. The world is too dangerous. Like there are criminals everywhere, and cars just drive into trees - just like that! - and there's diseases and people who don't like computers - can you believe it? - and like, an alarming amount of obesity in the US. God, I'm so hungry. Do you think you could make me some grilled cheese?" She pats his chest with both her hands, blinking up at him with a smile.

"Sure, babe," he mutters, trying to get her to lay down in the bed without hurting her but she's making a lot of unpredictable gestures and not in a mood to comply. "Lay down for me, will you?"

She raises an eyebrow, snorting, but obeying anyway, "Nice try, Oliver, but I just broke a bone, an actual bone in my body, so I don't think we should, you know, bo-"

"Don't finish that sentence," he says quickly, putting the blanket over her, as he ignores her giggles, "Just - get some rest."

She throws the blanket off, hitting him in the nose in the process as she sits up quickly. "Wait! Maybe I can fix the car? I can. I _can_ and I will. I mean I build supercomputer when I was like seven, I should be able to rebuild a car. Cars aren't all that. I can fix the car, right, Oliver? I can, can't I?"

Rubbing his nose, he sighs, nodding his head, anyway. "Yes, you can do everything, but let's do it in the morning, okay? Let's just get some sleep now."

She smiles brightly, putting her hands on the side of his face and squeezing them together. "Okay." She blinks a couple times, "Your face is funny."

He presses his lips together as he takes her hands in his, thinking short sentences is probably best right now, "Sleep, okay?"

She rolls her eyes, muttering something about 'no fun' and 'stupid faces' before finally laying down on her side. "Will you at least stay here with me, grumpy face?"

He puts his hand on her back in response and starts rubbing soothing circles with his thumb, earning a content sigh from his girlfriend, who then, in a matter of thirty seconds, drifts off to sleep. Oliver quietly makes his way over to the livingroom, he'd never been an early sleeper (partying nightly to the possibility of being killed in his sleep to chasing people with arrows?) but 7:15 pm was a little too crazy in his defense. He narrows his eyes as he spots Roy, spread out over the couch and enjoying a game of hockey on tv. That little....

"What kind of doctor prescribes painmeds for a broken arm?" He says, not taking his eyes off the screen as he takes a bite of his sandwhich.

Oliver kicks his feet of the couch and settles in next to him, "A little help would've been nice."

His mouth full, he answers, "Shwe's youwr girwlfrwienwd." He pauses, swallowing the rest of the food, "And she broke my car."

"What are you? _Five_?" Oliver grabs the other half of his snack, raising his eyebrows.

"Don't forget bitter."

.

“Hi, Roy,” Oliver breathes into the phone lowly, “Can you bring Felicity her tablet? She forgot it at home and with her whole situation doesn’t want to make the drive twice.”

“She broke her arm, not her back.”

There’s some grunting on the other side of the line before Oliver answers, out of breath, “It’s a big deal for her.”

“It’s not even a real break! It’s a freakin’ hairline fracture, but she insisted on a cast because she’s so _deadset_ on having warrior wounds.”

Oliver ducks, and his voice suddenly sounds distant, “The point...is...she broke...her...arm...doing something for...you.”

“She drove us into a tree!”

Oliver offers, shrugging to himself, as he avoids a fist aimed for his face and instead punches his attacker in the throat, “For you.”

“Sure, blame the adopted kid!” Oliver chuckles lowly, before realizing there’s a runner on the scene (coward) as he fires his arrow into said runner’s leg and Roy continues, annoyed, “Just admit it. You don’t want to go home because you already suited up and don’t want to miss a single minute from your nightly angry punch fest and instead want me to be your delivery boy so you still get to be in her good graces.”

There’s some heavy breathing, some running, sounds of somebody getting their ass handed to them and then, “You know how cranky she gets when she doesn’t have full access to her technological stuff.” Roy doesn’t miss the way Oliver didn’t deny anything he just said.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to be in the foundry?”

There’s a loud sigh, some silence, and then, a compromise. “You can drive my car.”

“The ferrari?”

More silence, a deep breath and a forced, “Fine.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

.

♥ 96 likes                                                                                                                                                                          

posted five hours ago

 **notahacker** _How sweet is my @harper_roy? Brought over my tablet, my favorite chocolates AND a hug <3_

 **harper_roy** _anything for the fatally injured_

 **flawlance** _awwwwww!!!!_

 **snowdoctor** _Very cute! :D_

 **lmichaels** _Absolutely Love It!_

 **tommymerlyn** _what a ladiesman ;) learned from the best ofc.... me! **  
**_

**jdigg** _Suck up!_

 **smoakinhotdonna** _adorable, can’t wait to see you guys :-) , ! felicity , how do I print this picture on paper ? i keep doubletapping but it wont work_

 **notahacker** _Thanks for all the notifications, mom. I'll call you in ten. Just, for the love of God, stop doubletapping._

 **iWESTallen** _YES, girl! So precious! He’s grown up so much :( #goals  
_

**theQUEEN** _#thesweetest;)_

 **notacanary** _i feel like there are some serious ovaries on fire because of this photo. #soccermompost_

 **oliver12** _seriously?_

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd love to hear what you think :)  
> next up: thea and roy get a little closer, and so do oliver and felicity ;) #muchawkward #veryprotective


	6. it's closer to the truth to say i just can't enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a few times Roy walks in on Oliver and Felicity and then there's the time Oliver walks in on Roy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me again :)  
> thanks for the support once more
> 
>  
> 
> song is addicted to love, the skyler grey version (i listened to that one while writing this, but any version will do)

.

“Oh, God, oh my dear God,” Roy blurts out, hands covering his eyes as he stands in the opening of their bedroom.

“Roy!” Felicity shrieks, pressing her shirt to her chest as she pushes Oliver off. As if she could pretend now that they weren’t doing what they were, well, obviously doing! Or about to. No, _oh Roy we were just trying to knit my sweater back together. I had hypothermia and Oliver was trying to warm me up with his bodyheat! Or, I lost my contact and Oliver was just trying to help me find it and our shirts? - oh, our shirts, well I ripped my sweater in the process and then got hypothermia and then Oliver was trying to warm me up._ Although those all could’ve come directly from Oliver’s mouth had he been asked for an excuse. “You should’ve knocked!”

“The door was open!” He groans loudly, rubbing his eyes like he just saw someone google ‘how to hack computers’. She would sport the same look. That’s just pathetic. _At least_ put it on incognito mode.

Oliver sends her an apologetic shrug, like he couldn’t have possibly known Roy would assume they weren’t busy and were fully clothed when the door was open. Sure thing, Queen. She’ll deal with him later.

“Roy, I’m so sorry, I thought you were playing your video games and we all know how you just kind of zone out and can’t pay attention to anything else when you’re in topform and well, we were just -”

In the mood? Trying to pass time? Two cats in heat? _Horny?_ How in the hell’s name was she trying to make this situation better by mentioning how -  No. He wasn’t going to think about this for one more second.

“I don’t need the details!” He yells, a little too loudly, frantically, daring to open his eyes - only to spot some Oliver groin action going on, because of course, his eyes land exactly on that part of the display, and he really didn’t need that image swirling around in his head - before squeezing them shut once again.

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” he blurts out, trying to find his way back out of their room, eyes still firmly closed, hitting the doorpost in the progress before stumbling over his own feet and down into the hall.

“Roy!” Felicity calls after him, desperate but all they hear in response is his door slamming shut. She slaps Oliver on the chest, hissing, “You could’ve said something!”

“Like what?” He shrugs again, leaning closer to kiss her neck once again and she pushes him away - no matter how good it feels - looking into his eyes with a stern/concerned glare, instead resting her hands on his shoulders.

“He’s been here for six weeks and just walked in on us. If he wasn’t traumatized before, I think it’s safe to say he is now.” Oliver nods in agreement, but seems distracted as he’s about to lean in to kiss her again when she puts her hand over his mouth - it’s effective - before continuing, “We can’t let it happen again. We’re his only role models and we’re telling him that having sex at three o’clock in bright daylight with a kid two doors over is _good_?” The look on Oliver’s face tells her he doesn’t really see anything wrong with that. Typical. “I mean it’s bad enough that Sara watched that Fifty Shades movie with him, not even let him watch, she watched it _with_ him. Then there’s Tommy and Laurel, who act like they’re some seventy hippies around him sometimes. And Thea -”

Oliver narrows his eyes, his hands moving down from her upper arms to her hips as his grip tightens, “What about her?”

“Nothing.” Felicity senses now is not the time to open the discussion on how his sister (Felicity thinks sometimes even purposely) wears skirts shorter than her own and crop tops like her life depends on it. She looks cute, Felicity has to give her that, but she’s fifteen. Not that that is an excuse because she’s all about dressing how you want and female empowerment but - you know what, there’s no way she can talk herself out of that one without sounding forty years older than she actually is.

Oliver, recapping as always, starts moving his thumbs in small circles, face close to hers, “So what does that mean? We can’t… Until… God knows when?”

Felicity tilts her head, seeming to be thinking it over as she stares at his bare chest (as a focal thinking point, she’s not actually staring at his bare, naked, ripped - okay getting off topic here), letting out a deep sigh before attaching her lips back to his roughly. She pulls away looking at him, his eyebrows raised and amused smirk playing on his lips. He muffles her giggles with more kisses as she manages to get out in between both, “Okay. Maybe we just be really quiet.”

.

“Felicity, have you seen my earph - Okay, nope,” he holds up his hands in defense as he backs himself up and out of the foundry, until the back of his ankles hit the stairs.

“I was tending to his wounds, Roy.”

“Yeah, I saw that your mouth ‘tending his wounds’. Thanks for that.”

Felicity sighs loudly, waving him off, “Earphones are next to the cash register upstairs.”

“Please just tell me Digg isn’t in here somewhere,” Roy practically begs as he tries to find his footing on the stairs, backwards, which isn’t as easy as it seems, “Sara, okay, I could handle that but if Digg is down here I swear I might -”

Oliver can’t help but let his arrow voice shimmer through a little as he presses, “Upstairs!”

.

Felicity paces the room, blouse half untucked from her skirt, obvious bed hair, barefooted as she rubs her temples with her fingers.

Her view is a seventeen year old seriously spooked Roy on the couch next to Oliver, who looks bored more than anything, arms resting on the backrest and ankles crossed.

“Your shirt is on backwards,” Roy mutters, bitterly if a way to describe it, not even bothering to look at Oliver as he contemplates his very existence by staring at his shoes.

“Sorry, I was a little preoccupied,” Oliver just smirks and Roy pretends he doesn’t see it out of the corner of his eye. It’s like he enjoys seeing him in agony.

Roy grimaces as he slouches in his seat, resting his head back. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

This seems to break Felicity out of her spell, “You said you were going to tag along with Laurel on her jog!”

Roy eyes widen, gesturing wildly, “I forgot my water bottle. You guys _just_ told me you were having a baby like literally five minutes ago, how was I supposed to know you were trying to add another one in there? Jesus, _fuck_!”

“Like you only do it because you want to make a baby!”

“We _eat_ from that table!”

“You were supposed to be gone!”

.

“Stop it,” she laughs loudly as she steps out of the bathroom, Oliver close behind her, hands on her hips. Oliver doesn’t seem to want to stop kissing her shoulder though, his hands already moving her kimono down her shoulder. He is insatiable. She doesn’t mind.

She freezes, stops drying her hair with her towel as she finds Roy standing in front of their bathroom door. “Roy, hi.”

Oliver grimaces as he turns around and disappears back into the bathroom, only to come back as he’s half-shrugging into his jeans.

“We could stand here and you could _try_ and come up with an excuse as to why you guys were in there together for 45 minutes but you know what? I don’t even want to know.”

“O-Okay,” Felicity smiles tightly, figuring by now it’s just best to not to try and drag out these type of situations, since they seem to be happening quite a lot of times. She’s an expert by now.

“Anyway,” Roy tightens his jaw, as he takes in a sharp breath, “What I came to tell you was, Donna is here. I didn’t let her in, she managed to come in by herself.”

“Donna, as in, my mother? That Donna? Donna Smoak?” Felicity stutters as she unconsciously starts fixing her hair. Oliver squeezes the side of her arm to help calm her down.

Roy just nods, eyebrows raised, “Just a heads-up: I had to tell her you were showering and you were having a business call. Also, I had to hand her Ayla, your daughter - who only likes to cry and poop, if you remember, since you left her alone with me for 45 minutes - to keep her from asking any questions. So if she’s wearing any sequins or leopard print when we come back, it’s not on me.”

“We trained you very well,” Oliver smirks, clapping his shoulder as he passes him by to go find a shirt.

Felicity shudders slightly as she looks at Roy, “Did she bring any bright yellow?”

“Probably. Just be glad _I_ don’t suck when it comes to excuses.”

.

Roy doesn’t really know how it happens because it’s always kind of been there ever since he got his grow spurt (a small one but still) and it’s never really not been there - not even when she dated that asshole Ricky - and it’s been all heated looks and _I’m twenty and you’re seventeen, Roy_ ’s and fleeting touches. They’re supposed to be celebrating his eighteenth birthday belatedly downstairs (courtesy of one Tommy Merlyn renting out the entire club) and now they’re making out in the storage room of the club she might or might not be singlehandedly managing and it’s good. Really good. All that build up tension really did wonders. It’s good.

And then; it’s not, because Oliver walks in looking for more booze and awkward doesn’t even begin to describe it. It’s not like he can twist the situation around and come up with an excuse because nothing looks more compromising than pushing Thea against a shelve, one of his hands up her skirt and the other somewhere else entirely (that he can’t mention in the very unlikely case Oliver knows how to read minds) and his mouth firmly attached to hers.

Roy contemplates just escaping through the backdoor and never coming back or maybe just jumping down from the first level of the club - if he survives, he could always run down to the foundry and stab himself with multiple arrows - but figures in either scenario, Oliver would be faster and the look of absolute anger on his face would only become worse. He doesn’t know how exactly it can be leveled up to rage but he can imagine it.

He just thanks his lucky stars Felicity isn’t with him (or God forbid the baby) because she could make this situation ten times more awkward, if possible, by just opening her mouth. It was a true talent.

“What’s this, Thea? You just waited until the exact day he turned legal to pounce on him?”

Well... That was… surprising.

“Technically I turned eighteen two weeks ago,” Roy informs him first and foremostly,  a little annoyed as he distances himself from Oliver’s sister because how come everybody always sees him as some young immature springchicken? _You can’t be in the foundry, Roy, it’s dangerous. You can’t have a motorcycle, Roy, you’re seventeen! You can’t be with me, Roy, it would be creepy. Roy, seventeen, no! NO._ God.

“Wait.. you’re mad at _me_?” Thea gapes at him, pulling her shirt that had ridden up during their... session, down her stomach as she sends her brother an equal look of fury.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m mad at Roy for assaulting my sister with his tongue, but I’m more mad at you you that let him!”

“Are you being serious?” She hisses, straightening out her skirt as she walks over to Oliver, faces close.

“You know what he’s been through and you decide to add ‘sexual relationship with my _aunt_ ’ to that very long list?” Well, thanks, Oliver; so much for tact.

“I can’t believe you right now!” She stamps her foot down on the floor like a toddler, hands flying up in the air like she’s about to punch Oliver. “We’re not related, and you know it! You’re just upset that we’re both old enough to make our own decisions and that we did. Without consulting _you_.”

“You never think about things like this, Thea. You just do them,” he barks and Roy reconsiders taking the backdoor. He could go for a mercy kill right about now.

“I resisted for a very long time, okay. Longer than you resisted putting your paws on Felicity - your 'EA',” she spits back, arms crossed over her chest and Roy knows, oh he knows, they’re both too stubborn to ever let this go.

“Should I just -” He starts, pointing at the door with his thumb over his shoulder but they both turn their heads towards him, conveying the words ‘ _don’t fucking go anywhere or i’ll have your balls for breakfast_ ’ into looks so he decides shutting up is the best option right about now.

There’s some more yelling, a lot of yelling, to be honest and at one point Roy thinks there’s actual steam coming from Oliver’s ears.

Then, “Whaaaaaat’s going on?” Felicity asks, opening the door to the storage room, casually walking into the greatest power struggle of the century (probably) in a hot pink dress and a smile on her face. Only Felicity.

“Nothing,” Roy clears his throat, the last thing he needs is for Felicity to insert herself in a conversation he didn’t even want to be having for the upcoming five to ten years. “Just some sibling stuff. We wouldn’t know anything about it. Let’s give them a minute. Wanna dance? Okay, great!”

Roy grabs her arm and pulls Felicity out of the storage room as she throws a wave over her shoulder to the Queens, completely obvlious. They don’t emerge downstairs for another thirty minutes and he doesn’t know what went down exactly, but Thea’s pissed and the look on her face tells him he’s going to be part of her ploy to piss Oliver off just as much.

“So,” Felicity smiles broadly as she throws her arms around his neck as a particularly slow song starts playing. Roy’s a little on edge because a part of him sort of feels like Oliver might cut in any second and punch him in the throat. The other half of him thinks it might be Thea. “You kissed Thea, huh?”

He tenses, trying to get a better look at her face, “You knew?”

She laughs, throwing her head back, “Oh, Roy, after all these years, you still take me for a fool.”

He rolls his eyes, amused smile playing on his lip before shaking his head and going back to swaying to the beat of the song.

Felicity is silent for a little while longer, which must’ve been hard on her, before she finally budges.

“How was it?”

“Shut up.”

(Thea wins the power struggle of the century, of course. He should’ve known.)

 .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback would mean the world!:)


	7. you know i will adore you till eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel, Roy and a wedding in the making.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /i/ for one absolutely adore laurel lance (and katie!) but i know the opinions are divided among the arrow fandom. idgaf she’s a queen! if you dont like her tho fair warning she’s in this chapter a lot hihAHO
> 
> i dont even live in the us so dont blame me for any inconsistencies with the whole foster/adopt thing i have no clue im a nineteen year old white girl from europe with a high school education
> 
> au verse note; in this verse laurel knows about the arrow but since sara didnt die there was no trigger or valid reason for her to become the black canary so shes just a kickass lawyer at day
> 
> song: be my baby by the ronettes

.

“Are you guys _insane_?”

“Clinically spoken, no. Logically speaking, probably,” Felicity answers - even though it was rhetorical - on as she follows Laurel’s fast streak through town and to her office, high heels clicking down the pavement quickly. Damn that lawyer’s long, fantastic legs. She exchanges an urgent look with Oliver, and it seems like even he has a hard time keeping up with their friend. She thinks Roy is trailing somewhere behind them, or she hopes so. Wouldn’t be a good thing to lose your foster kid in the middle of convincing your lawyer that he should be placed in your care permanently, now would it? “So, do you do special workouts to make your legs so long and fast? Were you in any case, ever near a particle accelerator? Maybe circa 2014? I’m just spitballing here, honestly, I do not know anything about a particle accelerator explosion. Just like I know nothing about hacking into NASA, and if I did, I learned recently, not when I was like, lets say… thirteen?”

As usual everyone ignores her ranting as Laurel presses her back against the door of her office to keep it open, nudging for them to get inside. Lowering her voice, making sure Roy has his earbuds tucked in nicely and loud enough to damage his eardrums, she narrows her eyes at Oliver, “You’re a vigilante,” her gaze now directed at Felicity (who can’t help but feel like she’s seven and making supercomputers without her mom’s knowledge once again), “and you’re his cyber accomplice and you want to bring an innocent child into your home?”

She throws her bag down on her chair, hanging her coat over it as she watches Roy trail into the room, looking particularly bored today and not at all impressed by her office. She would be offended, if he hadn’t been a twelve year old kid who had zero experience in fantastic office decorations. Besides, this was her first encounter with the kid and to say _she_ wasn’t impressed was an understatement. He was very... broody. “Better yet, you want me to help you bring an innocent child into your home for possibly the rest of his adolescent life?”

Oliver bites down on his tongue to keep from throwing out an I-fucking-told-you-so as Felicity avoids his gaze, suddenly finding her nails very interesting.

Finally, Oliver speaks up, because unlike popular beliefs, he does care about what happens to this kid, even if he’s only known him for four small weeks and he can’t help but think the best thing that could happen to him is Felicity. “Can’t you do _something_?”

His jaw tightens in frustration as Laurel raises her perfectly sculpted eyebrows in response, “I thought I was the lawyer here. You don’t see me running around in leather either, do you?”

“Why does everyone always only note the leather? Never the parkour running or kickboxing or the _blood_ , because there’s like a lot of blood involved - I should know, I’m like their bandaids vending machine - but the leather? Like I can’t say I haven’t noticed the leather, okay, fine, I have but - no one’s listening anyway,” she grimaces, pushing her glasses further up her nose and quipping in a high voice, “Thankfully.”

“I know, Laurel,” Oliver continues, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, for once not as enamored by Felicity’s babbling as usual and sporting a defeated look on his face instead, “I just - We can’t lose him. Not when we know they’re just going to send him to juvy and take away any chance he has at a life.”

Laurel sighs, a small smile on her lips as Felicity pulls on Roy’s hoodie as he plucks on a loose piece of wallpaper, offering him a tilted head and furrowed brow. He shrugs in response, stuffing his hands in the pocket of the red garment instead. She hears a Fall Out Boy song pump from his iPod from across the room.

“Let me just do the lawyering, okay? Because I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m pretty good at that part.”

.

She was completely (okay, partly, there were a few stern talks in dark basements with them over this) fine with it when it was supposed to be for a few days, but then days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and that turned into having trouble keeping child services in their lane. She has managed so far, but there were a few... complications recently. Her name wouldn’t be Dinah Laurel Lance if there weren’t any. One of them being her morals. This was a child, and whether or not Oliver and Felicity were her friends or not, and whether or not she knew it in her bones they were good people, and whether or not she trusted them, that didn’t become untrue.

For a while there she’d been able to justify it to herself, thinking they could keep Roy out of all their other business but it didn’t take long for him to find out, by himself. Hell, the kid had been able to cut to crap faster than she had been able to way back when (and Ollie’s lies were honestly worse than some of the dumbest criminals she had had in her courtroom, so, yes, she’s still disappointed in herself for that one).

Now she got it was a little annoying at best when child services was checking up on them at random times - especially when they were living such an _adventurous_ life - but it had been a long hard road to even get him placed in their care temporarily, with the child services eventually budging because she reminded them of a particular case. (One where she had to physically remove an abusive man from his home to keep his family safe because it wasn’t during their 9-5 work hours. She casually let it slip that she _could_ always tell her friend Iris after all; she had really good connections in the journalism world, with her Pulitzer and all.) Don’t even get her started on the road that was permanent placement. There as a reason she hadn’t pursued family law.

Folding her hands together on her desk, she takes a deep breath before a fast, constant stream of words follows, “You guys weren’t registered as foster parents - let alone have ever expressed interest in anything to do with children except the Queen’s yearly donation to the Children’s Hospital Benefit; Oliver has a reputation that I don’t really think I need to bring up right now because everyone and their mother knows about it; Felicity, despite her best efforts to hide any evidence available online, was part of some heavy criminal activities in college and _has_ been linked to the Green Arrow multiple times the past few years; and that’s all without even mentioning the fact you picked Roy up on the side of the street without alerting any kind of social service about it.”

Oliver sighs deeply, running a hand over his forehead as he tries to approach the situation rationally, so he would know what to do. (Maybe make the hood knock on some child services’ ass’s door in the middle of the night and put the fear of God into them? Would that be too obvious?) “So, the prospects are bleak at best?”

“Of course not,” she snaps, pulling out a stack of forms from her desk, a smirk on her lips, “Have you met me?”

_Dear Oliver,_

_Thanks for the vote of confidence!_

_Love, Laurel_

Felicity squeals, leaning over the table to hug Laurel, “You’re the best. Not that I have a lot of experience with lawyers beside you, but -” Laurel, feeling another Felicity Meghan Smoak rambling coming on, silences her with a grateful pat on the hand.

“Can you teach me that trick?” Roy, at the ripe age of fourteen, really was a smartass. Felicity glares at him, sticking out her tongue and he pretends to smile before pulling a straight face. Laurel snorts humouredly, arms crossed over her chest as she admires the scene in front of her. In between Felicity scolding the bored, rebellious teen Roy, seated in the middle, who was idly kicking against her desk and Oliver worriedly looking over the forms but yet still getting Roy to stop his antics with one look - they really did look like a family. A pretty dysfunctional one at that, but she had learned a long time ago that there wasn’t any family that truly wasn’t.

Oliver, already in business mode, stares down at the forms, browsing through them with a frown. “Why does this only require Felicity to sign?”

There’s an awkward silence for a moment or two, until Laurel clears her throat uncomfortably. She gets up and circles her desk, if only to stall a little. She leans back against her desk, looking at her friends. It really doesn’t help that she used to date Oliver. It really, really doesn’t.

“Look, Felicity, Oliver, I don’t know what to tell you.” Normally steady, fearless, brutally honest Laurel swallows hard. She unbuttons as button of her blazer, even if it’s just to delay the news a little longer.

“Just say it, Laurel,” Oliver barks, eyes dark and she would be scared if she hadn’t seen naked pictures of him in diapers. As a baby. Geeze. Not as an adult. At least, she hopes those don’t exist.

Taking in a sharp breath and a lot of interest in her pumps all of a sudden, she answers, “In order to get him placed in both your care permanently, you’d guys have to be married.”

“Oh shit,” Roy smirks as he leans back in his chair, fingers intertwined over his stomach as he looks ready to watch the showdown of the century go down. Felicity nudges him in the ribs with her elbow, nodding her head to the side as a sign for him to shut his mouth around other people (Laurel recognizes it all too well from when she and Sara were little and her mom was still around).

“Married?” Oliver tries it out, like it’s a strange, foreign thing he never even thought of, almost choking on the word in the proces. Felicity pretends she doesn’t care.

“Oh, this is good,” Roy snickers, “This is really good,” and Laurel turns to look at him, eyes narrowed as she slaps his arm, muttering for him to shush.

“I don’t really know if that’s…” He looks uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable, gaze focused on Felicity but visibly aware of her and Roy’s presence in the room. “I mean, do we… do you… I-I…” She has never heard him stutter once in her life. Roy was right, this was good. “Marriage that’s…”

“What? Spit it out, Oliver.” Felicity. Okay, so maybe she isn’t that good at pretending.

He swallows tightly, wetting his dry lips as he stares at Felicity.

Laurel bites down on her lip to keep from bursting out in laughter as Roy sarcastically pitches in, “Does this mean I won’t get to be your flower boy?”

.

The guys are throwing Diggle a bachelor party a week before his wedding to Lyla? Fine, so are we even though Lyla explicitly said it wasn’t necessary because we’re like five. No, not five - five _and a half_.

Or something along those lines. Laurel doesn’t know. She didn’t really have time to memorize that particular group chat convo.

It doesn’t take long before they’re all drunk, besides her - because after her little trip down alcoholic lane, she took a permanent break from drinking - and unlike common believes, it’s not fun to be the only sober one when there’s a bunch of tipsy women in the room and you kind of just want to start eating out of boredom and those penis-sized cupcakes that Sara brought as a joke look _really good_ but you worked so hard for the amazing body you have and don’t feel like spending an extra hour at the gym tomorrow. Or something like that.

So… Where was she? Right. Tipsy women. Well, besides Felicity. She’s just _piss_ drunk.

“What even is a boyfriend? I mean, it’s a friend who’s a boy. Oliver’s a man and I’m a woman and he’s not my friend. He’s my partner. He’s my _man_ partner, who I love so veryveryvery much and I know he dated at least half of the girls present here today—” the blonde with glasses slurs, throwing her hand - stocked with a half full glass of some girly cocktail that smells like sugar - around wildly, the liquid smushing over the sides in the process. “I wish!” Iris cuts in teasingly but Felicity waves her off drunkenly. “I know he dated a little _less_ than half the girls present here, but I love him the most, you guys know that right? I do I do I do. Do you think Oliver knows?”

Sara and Caitlin exchange a knowing look, the latter pushing another glass of brightly pink alcoholic beverage her way as she sends her a sympathetic smile, trying to keep from laughing, “I think he does, sweetie.”

“Men are shit,” Sara just offers helpfully, clinking her own glass with Felicity’s, unasked, before downing it completely.

“Don’t wallow in this, Felicity. You are a strong, capable, beautiful woman and you don’t need a marriage license to make you happy,” Laurel buts in, or reminds herself, because she’s not bitter about the lack of a ring around her own finger, no, she is not. Screw Tommy and his fear of commitment.

“I just luhhlove him so, so, soooooo much?” Felicity states, or more like asks, tears forming in her eyes as Lyla rubs her back comfortingly, telling her it’ll be okay.

“Nice move, asshole,” Sara snorts in Laurel’s direction, who only kicks her leg under the table in response as they watch Felicity wipe her tears on Lyla’s shirt shamelessly.

“Hey, at least she doesn’t strip when she’s drunk,” Iris adds with an almost devious smirk, sipping on her own cocktail and Caitlin nudges her shoulder into hers, lips pursed. “I told you that in confidence.”

After a while Laurel decides to throw the mini pizzas in the oven (she is hungry and her body is amazing either way, lets be real) Felicity prepared before she decided to throw all caution in the wind and try out a whopping _two_ of Iris’ secret recipe cocktails and the smell diffuses through Felicity’s entire apartment. It doesn’t take long after that for Roy to emerge from his room for snacks. He wasn’t invited to Digg’s bachelor party - which only meant that Laurel really did not want to know what they were up to - but he seemed to favor video games over a night with the guys anyway. (Neither was Thea to their own last-minute thrown together party in Felicity’s apartment, but she wasn’t as mute about the subject. One of her angry texts included the words ‘cutting off’ and she didn’t mean them out of her life, but actual body parts.)

“Royyyyyyyyyyyy,” Felicity smiles, reaching out for him as she pulls him down in between Lyla and her, throwing her arms around him, resting her cheek against his arm. “How’s you? Did you shoot all your zombies? Poof poof!”

Roy doesn’t respond, instead stuffing three mini pizzas in his mouth at once, smart enough to know that if he ignores her for 0.2 seconds she’ll get distracted and he’ll be able to shuffle back to his room. He spots her expression that’s apparently more like ‘stab a fork in my eye’ than ‘yay bachelorette party much fun’ and nods her way just as Felicity grabs his face and plants a kiss on his cheek with a loud smack. She sends him a grin, chin resting on her hand, appreciating the fact she’s no longer the only one in agony.

(It’s not like she expected them not to drink, or anything - it’s a bachelorette party - and normally they’re pretty considerate and they all go virgin, so it’s not like she’s not annoyed they are drinking. She’s just annoyed she can’t.)

“Poof poof,” Lyla repeats - forming finger pistols and pretending to shoot them towards the ceiling - laughing loudly along with Caitlin. Great. Laurel sips on her virgin-cosmo bitterly. Just what she needed around here. Happy drunks. She’s so bored she has resorted to dividing the girls into archetype drunks.

Iris disappeared into the kitchen minutes ago - she was an angry drunk - and apparently suddenly remembering Barry forgot to take out the trash two weeks ago required a phone call at 1am in the morning.

There was Sara, who she had known her entire life and couldn’t describe as anything else besides needy drunk, being affectionate as frick and petting people’s heads and braiding their hair. She was now currently offering to make grilled cheese for whoever wanted one as long as they were nice to her. (Laurel’s comment about how eating the _special_ cupcakes was a little disgusting because they looked more like diseased worms than anything else apparently was reason enough to shun her.)

Caitlin apparently stripped, but Laurel was happy she kept it to being a happy drunk for now. Like Lyla, who literally just laughed at the color of Roy’s hoodie and pulled on the strings until she was almost choking him, which was obviously even funnier.

And Felicity, oh, sweet, sweet, weepy-hysterical drunk Felicity.

“I’ll be a virgin forever!”

“You’ve had sex before, geeze,” Lyla responds, dismissing her, taking a loud slurp of her cocktail before narrowing her eyes in thought, adding, “ _Right_?”

“Oh yes, they have,” Roy raises his eyebrows, empty look in his eyes as he sucks on the straw planted in his coke.

“I mean like, a virgin _br-hh-ide_ ,” she hiccups lightly, pushing her glasses further up her nose as Sara all too happily fills up her glass again.

“Marriage isn’t all that, believe me, at the end of the day there’s still only you and him,” Lyla offers, with a tilt of her head, and Caitlin shrugs, of course, laughing. “True. It’s just a piece of paper.”

“You two and _mini_ -Sara!” Sara smirks, reaching out to tug on a piece of Lyla’s hair and the brunette almost giggles in response, “Your fault for taking an arrow for my fiancé and almost dying in the process. I think Laurel almost suited up herself to kick Merlyn’s ass.”

Well, that wasn't a complete fabricated drunken lie. Besides, she always thought she would look good in a skintight leather outfit. Shit. She can't let Tommy hear about that one.

Felicity, previously off thinking about their statement about marriage, cuts back in,“That’s easy for you to two to say, and besides, this is your bachelorette party,” Felicity narrowing her gaze to Lyla before realization seems to dawn in on her, as she slaps Lyla’s arm, “Oh my god, this is _your_ bachelorette party. I’m such a clown.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Roy mutters from his position next to Laurel, having moved there after Lyla’s choking attempt, and she snorts a little, leaning back against her seat to be closer within his reach. “Ten bucks someone offers to start up Felicity’s karaoke machine within the next ten minutes.”

“You’re on,” he smirks, shaking her hand before using his other hand to shove in more mini pizzas.

As if on cue, Iris emerges from the kitchen, “So who’s up for some karaoke? Barry hates karaoke and I currently hate him.”

Sara throws her fist in the air, “Let’s do it!”

.

Laurel waits for Felicity to finish fixing Roy’s bowtie for the third time before clearing her throat and drawing their attention.

“Fun party that was, huh.”

“Please, I’m still hungover.”

“And everytime I close my eyes I can still hear Caitlin trying to reach that high note in that song from the Titanic.”

Laurel’s eyes shine with amusement as she offers, “Don’t forget Felicity’s impromptu line dance session during Wannabe. Yee-hah!”

Roy laughs loudly, loving the way Felicity’s the one squirming for once, “Oh, and remember that split she tried to do during Mmmbop? I thought she was going to fracture a —”

Felicity frowns, motioning for them to stop as Oliver appears beside Roy. Only Oliver would try and pick up a few criminals before his best friend’s wedding.

(And apparently Felicity still cares what he thinks of her, so their situation can’t be still as bad as it’s been the entire week. Three days ago she almost got him arrested because she refused to give him directions over their com until he stopped ordering and asked ‘nicely’.)

“Hey,” he says, with one of his gorgeous smiles, blue eyes highlighted by his dark suit. Wow, props to Felicity for keeping up the cold war imitation even now.

Screw that. Props to _Oliver_ for not jumping her at this exact moment because she looks pretty bangin' in that tight pink dress herself. Damnit. They might come for Tommy and her's hottest powercouple title tonight. She means _Diggle and Lyla_ 's title of course. Yep.

“Hi,” Laurel smiles, tipping her glass into his direction as a greeting and Roy acknowledges him with a nod. Felicity however, huffs, and mutters something about fixing a stain on her dress, disappearing into the direction of the bar - not the bathroom, but hey, who was she to judge? She’s probably take another shot at the bottle if Tommy blatantly told her in front of his ex that _hey, you’re cool and all but I actually don’t really want to marry you_.

Still, the situation is pretty amusing. She’ll get rid of the bad karma that comes with that thought later. She smiles sympathetically, “I take it you didn’t talk about your… issues with Felicity?”

Oliver sighs heavily, “I tried, but what was I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know,” Roy rolls his eyes, pulling on his bowtie (and Laurel takes a sip of her drink at the thought of Felicity coming over there and fixing it again), “Maybe that you’re an idiot, but an idiot that wants to marry her.”

Laurel purses her lips in appreciation of his spot on honesty, ready to cut in and say she agrees before Oliver speaks up.

“You’re on her side?”

“I’m on the right side. Which is the side that needs you get get your head out of you ass and ask her to marry you. We picked out a ring and everything! And now you want to get cold feet?”

“You picked out a ring?” Laurel gasps, pressing her hand to her chest, careful not to spill any of her drink over her carefully selected orange dress. A ring. That was a surprise. Here she was thinking it was a fear of commitment and couldn’t be more wrong. Playboy Oliver Queen buying a ring for his girlfriend. Where’s Tommy? She needed to find him and put her 6 inch heel up his ass.

Roy’s face transforms into an aggregated state. “We went to the jewelry store five weeks ago to get something for her birthday—”

“That’s beside the point,” Oliver cuts in, annoyed, but thankfully Roy ignores him. She wants to hear this.

“and he didn’t like any of the necklaces or bracelets or earrings and kept staring at the rings. Nose pressed to the glass in awe and everything—”

“They showed us the expensive ones on purpose and you know it,” Oliver tries to explain desperately and Laurel can’t help but grin a little.

“...eventually I had to break it to him that maybe he was here for something else than her birthday.”

“I never said,” Oliver starts, pissed, earning a few looks before pausing, collecting himself, “look, if we marry. It’s out there. Her name is linked to mine forever. What if anyone ever finds out I’m the Green Arrow?

Laurel thinks this is a good time to just bomb that truth onto him, no mercy. “I don’t even think it’s about you not wanting to get married, I think it’s how you said it like you didn’t want to marry _her_.”

Oliver’s face seems to pale at that realization (guys are so stupid sometimes) but since Lyla decides to walk into her own wedding at that exact moment, he needs to make his way over to Diggle - as best man and all - and they need to find their own spots.

When they find their rightful places next to Felicity and Thea, Roy leans over a little, muttering in a deadpan manner, “You know being part of this family has brought more drama into my life than an abusive drunk as a father and a drug addicted mother before they both bailed on me to die.”

She snorts quietly, throwing her arm around him, as the tune of the wedding march starts to play, “And ain’t that a wonderful thing.”

.

So, later when she’s slow dancing with Thea (because who needs Tommy) Felicity is sporting a blitzy diamond rock around her left ring finger that she won’t mention for at least another day for the sake of not stealing Lyla and Diggle’s thunder (although it’s earning some looks all on it’s own) and she can’t help but pride herself a little on it. Although she thinks it was mostly Roy. She thinks his forceful glares everytime he passed Oliver tonight really did the job.

“Is that what I think it is?” Thea’s eyes widen as she strains her neck to look over Laurel’s shoulder.

“Yup. I think now he can finally suit up without the risk of being caught by my father.”

Thea tsk-tsks, “Not if that ring isn’t _at least_ five carat. That kind of tragedy would require for me to call the cops on his butt myself.”

Laurel laughs, spinning the smaller brunette around as she casts another look on Felicity's huge beam and Oliver's smiling eyes, "The horror."

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> endnote: shamelessly stole the archetypes from glee’s blame it on the alcohol aka their most iconic episode ever. again i appreciate all the kinds of support you guys are giving me but a comment would be really nice and encouraging and you dont even know how much they make me smile. just sayin’. :)


	8. you're the reason that i feel so strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queens and some of their visits to the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the love!!!  
> here's another addition to my collection of 'things i shouldnt be doing while im in the middle of my exams', part of my bestselling trilogy 'im fucked'!
> 
> song is mess is mine by vance joy

.

“Can you at least tell us when he wakes up?” Felicity snaps, about 1 inch away from her breaking point. Roy and Thea are standing behind her and she knows she should be strong for them, or at least try to be, but it’s been five days. Five days without hearing his voice, without feeling his touch, without seeing his eyes look back into hers. Five days.

The doctor seems to be getting slightly annoyed after already being grilled by a guy with expensive taste in clothes - who was angry for not being allowed in the ICU, another tall brunette woman threatening to sue the hospital and a big looking guy just staring him down, arms crossed over his chest. Which was fifty shades of creepy on it’s entirely own accord. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Queen, but he _was_ stabbed through his abdomen. The coma, however induced, was a necessary evil.”

“It’s been five days and you still don’t know her name. Makes me feel real confident in your abilities,” Roy narrows his eyes, barking back in order to be able to make at least one spiteful comment directed to the no-good doctor without being _actually_ rude. He was raised to be better than that.  

“It’s miss Smoak-Queen. She _hyphenates_ ,” Thea adds snarkily, crossing her arms over her chest to mirror Roy’s stance as she steps closer to Felicity. No one fucks with Thea Queen’s squad and she would like that to be very clear. Like they didn’t know he was stabbed through at least four of his organs. Like they needed a reminder.

“Right.” The doctor nods tightly before offering, “I’ll leave you to it. If there’s any news - I will let you know.”

Felicity just sniffs, sinking down in her seat next to Oliver’s bed as she tentatively takes a hold of his hand, resting the other on top of Thea’s as a quiet thank you. Roy squeezes Felicity’s shoulder, exchanging a pained look with the brunette next to him. They both didn’t know what they could say to make it better, both didn’t know if there was anything that could.

Felicity’s voice cracks, tears spilling from her eyes as she manages to get out a, “Please just come back to us.”

.

“How about I stab an arrow through your genitals? How would that feel? _Huh?_ Would you like that?”

“That’s a very _random_ choice of weapon,” Oliver says loudly as he laughs nervously, rolling Felicity towards the ER in her wheelchair. Roy snickers as he quickens his step to keep up with them, adjusting the blonde’s bright pink hospital bag over his shoulder, contrasting starkly against his black v-neck.

She ignores him, instead choosing to double over in pain (as much as possible, she is carrying a nine month old _watermelon_ in her stomach) as another contraction hits her. “Someone hand me a damn phone. I need to call Lyla and call her a dirty, deceiving, Felicity-hating phony. _You won’t feel a thing. It’s over within minutes. I’m a trained and skilled liar._ Blah blah. It hurts like a—owwwww! For the sake of feminism I won’t call _her_ a female dog, but I’m just saying she resembles one, for sure.”

“Apparently her mouth isn't effected by the 'horrible' pain she's in,” Roy mutters almost bitterly and Oliver sends him a look that tells him not to make such comments in the presence of a very pissed of, ready to go into labor pretty much any second and pumped full of hormones Felicity. She might actually follow through on her threats and cause some physical damage today.

It doesn’t get much better when the doctor tells them she hasn’t even dilated five centimeters, which allegedly isn’t nearly enough. (Five centimeters sounds pretty hardcore to Roy, but what does he know.)

“You’re telling me it’s going to get _worse_?” Felicity eyes widen to a size he didn’t even knew was possible. She doesn’t wait for an answer, instead growls, “Get out.”

The OB/GYN is apparently used to women acting this way around her and nods, quietly leaving. Oliver grimaces a little as she tightens her grip on his hand, though. Who knew blind and fast typing improved finger strength by such a length. 

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” she breathes harshly, grabbing a hold of her swollen belly with her free hand as she squeezes her eyes shut. He rubs her hand with his thumb lightly, brows furrowed, wishing he could do more, take some of her pain. He tries to remember some of the breathing lessons of the prenatal couples yoga class Felicity made them take, but is coming up blank.

“You did this,” she hisses, narrowing her gaze onto Oliver, eyes unusually dark.

“I-I,” he stammers, face fear stricken. Before finally offering a sheepish, “ _We_ did this together?”

“And guess who has to push a ten pound basketball out of her—”

“Sooooo have we thought of a name?” Roy buts in, somewhat too happily for Felicity's liking and somehow reminding her of his existence.

“Roy William Harper, you get your ass out of here right now before you see something you shouldn’t and I need to smack it out of you.”

He holds up his hands in defense, smirking even though he knows he's going to regret this later, “Hey, didn’t the doctor _just_ say this could take another six to eight hours?”

He manages to dodge the fluffy slipper she aims (less badly than usual) at him just in time.

.

So imagine finally convincing your friend to babysit your child in return for washing their car, an unlimited access to her previously well-guarded chocolate supply at the foundry and rubbing their shoulder on five different occasions so you can have a date-night and some well-deserved sexy times with your husband for the first time in three months, which you regretfully mention (without the sexy times, thankfully) while discussing the terms of sale your sister-in-law made with the new beer supplier at the club  and your husband’s best friend shamelessly invites himself and his girlfriend to the date, deeming it a double date, and you manage to get over that because they’re your friends and honestly, there’s always time for sex after dinner because, well, you convinced your friend Sara that your baby could sleepover at her place even agreeing to the consequence she might return skilled at screaming like a dying canary—and then getting a call in the middle of the date that your son in in the hospital. Imagine that. Just for a moment.

“Alcohol poisoning?” Felicity snorts humorlessly, tightening her grip on the string of her purse hanging over her shoulder as she paces the waiting room. “That’s something that doesn’t really happen to people. It’s something you hear about and you know it exists because you’re not a dirty hippy, but that’s something that only really happens in one of those reality shows like Jersey Shore. I don’t think I even know anyone who’s ever had alcohol poisoning—”

Oliver, Laurel and Tommy seem to spontaneously and simultaneously all choke on air at the same time. Laurel tries to somewhat casually cover it up by pretending to cough, but the other two aren't as succesful.

“Really?” She raises her eyebrows, not even that surprised as she looks at her husband. She deadpans, blinking slowly as she watches him, “Do I even truly know who you are?”

“All six different versions of me, babe,” he grins playfully, pulling on her hand and putting her to a halt as he rubs her back softly. She would appreciate the gesture, if he wasn't such a fake.

“How can you even joke at a time like this?”

“The doctor already told us it wasn’t too serious. Besides, I speak from experience—” she snorts loudly and humorlessly, “when I say that you pretty much just throw up everything for a few days and then recover pretty smoothly.”

Tommy smirks, punching his shoulder playfully, “Yeah, you just pulled through. I mean Moira signed you out at 6pm and we were back at it by 9. Remember how that girl - what was her name? Sandra or Sasha, whatever - she just went for you even though you had puke-breath? I mean she was smokin’ and a little gross, I mean, _puke-breath_ , but smokin'....” He trails off, turning slightly paler.

Laurel and Felicity both turn to glance at him, not all too friendly and Tommy winces automatically, throwing in a: "Not as hot as.. Nevermind. I'll just quit while I'm ahead." before realizing mute was maybe the best way to go from here.

“You can go in to see him now. Doctor Wilson just told me,” a nurse tells them, eyes friendly as she passes them, before disappearing around a corner.

“We’ll give you guys a moment,” Laurel smiles sympathetically, giving Felicity’s arm a comforting rub before they start off into Roy’s room’s direction.

“Yeah, we’ll let you guys lecture him in private.” Tommy grins, sending them a double thumbs up, eyebrows raised. Felicity throws a, “If you don’t watch it I’ll lecture you!” over her shoulder before they enter Roy’s room.

It’s nice and spacey and—he is a complete and utter idiot.

She reaches over and hugs him tightly, kissing both sides of his face before smacking him on the back of the head.

"Hey, I'm sick!" He grunts, squeezing his eyes shut as he leans back onto his pillow carefully.

“You've been at college for what...?" He opens his mouth to answer but she doesn't seem to be interested in his answer, crossing her arms over her chest, only to uncross them again and gesture around wildly, "Two weeks. Two damn weeks. That's not even ten percent of a semester. What were you thinking? Honestly? _Enlighten_ me."

Again he opens his mouth but she doesn't give him a single chance. "Don't even try and dignify me with an answer to that."

She grabs a hold of the side of his bed, suddenly turning soft, and disappointed (which is worse than anger in Roy's opinion), "Have I failed you this badly? Did you google Oliver's past antics and thought to yourself," she deepens her voice, "oh, well, he needed five years on an alleged abandonded island to recover from this kind of dickery but hey, seems like fun!" She throws up her hand in mock excitement before putting a hand on her chest, almost dramatically choking up, "Did you not think of Ayla? What she would think? Did you not think about that precious little angel when you decided to down an entire bottle of Jack? Did you not think of me? I was promised sex." He winces, and he would wave for her to stop right there but his head was kind of spinning and he wasn't seeing straight.

Felicity sniffs loudly, "I was looking forward to sex and I was going to enjoy the frick out of it." He swallows tightly, trying not to empty his stomach again right there and then. "But noooo, mister, you had to go and get yourself some fun nice alcohol poisoning because you thought screw Ayla, screw Oliver, screw Felicity - or as a matter of fact don't screw her, never screw her again, don't let anyone near her and you just -" she lets out a frustrated groan, clearing her throat and pulling on her coat to straighten it. She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath, "I'm going to get myself a coffee in the cafeteria and try to collect myself because I have about a _thousand_ other things I want to yell to you about, but all that seems to come to mind right now is my sexlife. If you excuse me."

Oliver waits until she is out of their earshot before finally speaking up (he figured sometimes just letting her get it all out was the best thing), sending him a sympathetic smile, "You know she only yells because she loves you, right?”

He sighs, feeling another wave of nausea come on, swalling tightly as some way of trying to control it. “Yeah, I figured. It’s all you guys do.” Oliver tilts his head in confusion, because surely they don't yell that much? Sure, his default voice in the foundry is 'angry at everyone, and anyone, and anything, and everything' but Felicity and him were pretty mellow in their day-to-day lives.

" _'Oliver, don't touch my computer!'"_ He says, voice feminine before turning slight more deep, "' _Felicity, just give me the damn coordinates already.'_ " _  
_

"That's work related," Oliver argues justifably, raising his eyebrows, obviously unimpressed.

Roy snorts, sitting up a little as he accepts the challenge. _"'Felicity, it's YOUR turn to get up to get the baby!'_ because you're the light sleeper and Felicity's the one who only gets up if you threaten her gadgets, at which point she just yells, 'Roy!' and there's the _'Oliver, how do you sleep at night knowing all your cables are knotted together!'_ or my personal favorite, _'Did you hide my Steven Hawking biography DVD again?'_ "

"Hey, that was you," Oliver warns, adding, after a beat, "And that thing is like four hours long so I don't blame you." He grins slightly, putting his hands on railing of Roy's bed, who just shakes his head. Which apparently wasn't his brightest idea. He shifts uncomfortably, dizzy and nauseous.

"You okay?" Oliver asked, brow furrowed together as he reaches over to stabilize him by grabbing onto his arm.

"I'm fine," he says, reaching for his glass of water which Oliver hands him. He still looks horrible.

The older man sighs in response, tightening his jaw, "Right, but just don't think because she is the one yelling that I don't care. I know I don't really have the right to tell you this was really stupid, but this was really stupid. You're lucky you're not in coma."

As if on cue, Felicity walks in just as Roy doubles over and throws up into his kidney dish. She smirks deviously, taking another triumphant sip of her coffee after sing-songing, “Kaaaaarmmmmaaaa.”

Roy looks up at them after a moment, grimace on his face, but still being able to pull an annoyed look, "It was a bet, okay? Some Ivy League asshat," he pauses, reaching for his mouth before swallowing after a moment, " _Some Ivy league asshat_ said I wouldn't be able to do it because I didn't have my 'fake' dad to back me up with his money so I showed him that he could kiss my ass."

Felicity huffs, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"I know," he grunts, tiredly as once again tries to rest his head back, not feeling another lecture right now.

"No, I mean, that you wouldn't be able to do anything without Oliver's money, which isn't even his, might I add, _I'm_ the CEO in this family. Like we bought your SAT scores, or got you that scholarship or something. Why would we buy you a scholarship? I thought you said he was Ivy League. There's no logic, it's a paradoxal argument. He killed himself before he even finished that sentence. Pff. What a clown."

"Felicity," Oliver says, amused look on his face and she nods, rubbing her hands together in anticipation, "Right. More yelling."

Luckily, Thea decides to barge in unannounced right that second, running over to Roy's other side, throwing her arms around him and not even hesitating before kissing him square on the mouth. With tongue. Like Felicity is pretty sure she saw her tongue go in there and she know Thea is still keeping a grudge over the whole 'a meddling Oliver's nose sticking in her business', so PDA's usually a given, but,  she thinks Thea might come to regret this particular one.

The small blonde leans into her boyfriend's side, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, cynically, "Looks like he found himself his own girl in _smokin'_ hot armor who'll kiss him when he has puke breath."

 Oliver sighs dramatically, "Felicity, you know that you're the only one I want to kiss me when I have puke breath."

 She raises her eyebrows, looking from one side to another to back to him, "Yeah, I don't think that'll ever happen because that's about the grossest thing you ever said to me. I'm glad we got this call and I don't have to go through with it tonight."

"Oh, are you really?" He laughs, putting his hands on her hips from behind after poking her sides before they find Thea looking at them, eyebrows raised.

"Does that include the time he was kind of out of it, I'm still pretty sure he had a concussion—"

"I did _not_ have a concussion. It was just a little fall."

Felicity snorts humorlessly, "Yeah, out of a second story window."

Thea rolls her eyes, continuing, "—refusing to go to the ER and telling you he found it kind of sexy when you bandaged his disgusting, infected, pus-oozing wounds?"

"Thea, you really shouldn't have said the word 'pus'. I think Roy is going to throw up again in three, tw—"

Thea tightens her jaw as she stares down at her now vomit-covered designer top. "Yep, I definitely shouldn't have said that."

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave a comment so i have something to write about in my diary she says casually joking while actually speaking the truth


	9. but isn't she lovely made from love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayla's first day of school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is just a quick update to let y'all know i'm not dead :)  
> i promise im working on this but i recently lost the file where i wrote in for this story and i could only partially recover it, including this one shot. i don't know where i was initially going with this one when i first started it (a year back!!!) so i'm not completely in love with it, but like i said. working on more. just a quick update.
> 
> there's not much roy in this because for the love of me i could not remember what my thoughts were regarding this particular storyline but........ whatever
> 
> song is by stevie wonder, isn't she lovely:)

.

Oliver looks down at the little girl holding his hand, eyes wide with wonder because of the novelty of the situation. Kids are running everywhere, making a lot of  _ noise _ , and her grip on her red iron man lunch box tightens at the sight, tiny knuckles turning white. (Sara thought it’d be a funny first day of school present. Oliver, however, considered getting some anxiety meds every time Ayla showed it off proudly to anyone who would listen. Who likes Iron Man anyway? Hawkeye is obviously superior.)

“Are you okay, honey?” He asks, amused at the death grip on his hand as he peers down at his daughter. Her blue eyes are bigger than ever, staring up at him like he’s the worst person in the world for doing this to her. Maybe he is. He doesn’t know how every other adult in the room seems to be doing completely fine while he has one foot permanently out of the door, ready to pick her up and bolt out of here forever.

“I bet you’ll make a lot of friends today, like a  _ super _ lot,” Felicity exclaims excitedly, bending down a little as she repositions her glasses on her nose, bright, bright beam on her face. If she makes it any brighter, Oliver might actually start believing it.

Ayla just scrunches her nose at the comment, but he catches the worry in her eyes. She’s not usually this silent and it irks him in all the wrong ways. Felicity pokes her in the stomach softly, playfully, “Hey, I know Roy likes to pretend friends are stupid, but you shouldn’t listen to him. He thinks he’s too cool for everything.”

Their daughter smiles a little at that, rolling her eyes, and Felicity leans forward to press a kiss to her nose with a loud smack. Oliver kind of loves how good Felicity is at all this stuff, not because he’s a lazy parent or anything, just because half the time he doesn’t know what to do or say.

She opens her mouth to say more when a shaky, desperate high-pitched voice rings through the room. “Is there anyone who knows how to work the digiboard?” A grey-haired woman in about her fifties calls out, a name tag reading ‘Betty’, patches of red spreading on her face and neck. Felicity looks up at Oliver, like a part of her soul just died, deadpanning, “Duty calls.” 

He laughs, and she sends him a look of dread over her shoulder as she makes her way over to the front of the class. He decides to kneel down next to his daughter, since today of all days, is the day she finally decided to be quiet. She’s never quiet. She gets that from her mother. Probably.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He grins, but it feels painful and forced, tugging on a string of her coat, “Did we decide we don’t like the Iron Man lunch box anyway?”

Oh  _ no _ . No. No No. Her bottom lip starts trembling, eyes turning watery and sending his heart dropping to the bottom of his stomach. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was supposed to stay little forever and not grow up this fast and make him feel emotions like guilt. He does enough of that for himself already.

“Baby, what’s the matter?” He manages to get out before she buries her head in chest, body shaking with sobs, that damn lunch box pressed in between them.

“I…” There’s more words he can’t make out because they’re being mumbled against his shoulder, until he’s able to make out another word. “...Daddy.”

The way she says ‘daddy’ literally makes him feel like somebody just stabbed him through the chest and threw him off a cliff but  _ worse _ (and he  _ knows _ how it actually feels) and he pulls back, wiping at her tears with his thumb. “What was that?”

She looks at him with big, watery, dark blue eyes and for a second all he sees is Felicity staring back at him. “I don’t want to stay here, daddy. I’m scared.”

“Why?” He frowns, concerned as he fingers one of her blonde braids carefully, remembers the hassle it took this morning to get her to sit still long enough to make it happen. “Why are you scared?”

She sighs, shakily and for a second it looks like she’s going to cry again. Then, she opens her mouth and there it is. “What if I don’t make friends? What happens then? Mommy has friends. You have friends. Even Roy has friends he pretends not to like. I don’t want to be the weird one without friends.” 

He’s trying to stay calm, but on the inside he’s breaking. “Why do you think you’re not going to make any friends? Everybody loves you! Even Nyssa loves you and she only really likes Aunt Sara.” 

He was married to her and she still doesn’t want to tell him mundane stuff, like what her favorite color is. Meanwhile she’s drawing disney characters and sharing personal G-rated battle stories with Ayla all day long.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, adding a sniff to set him up for a heart attack. Her voice trembles a little when she speaks, but still manages to contain a little attitude, “because I’m four and I like to build computers?”

He sighs, mainly to buy himself a little time. He’s never had these problems. He’s had problems ranging from how best to show off the expensive toy cars (plural) his dad bought him to how to pick up two or more girls to how to stop an evil serial killer from murdering his team, but never he’s had to worry about making friends. It just happened naturally, and if it didn’t, well. He figured he was better off on his own.

And even Roy’s first day of college hadn’t really been like this. Felicity cried and hugged Roy for at least ten minutes straight, and he hit some weird numb level of depression for a few days, but it was different. Roy was already-- _ grown _ . Standing in front of him was just a little girl, and he was going to have to send her off into world. On her own.

“At the end of the day, the only opinion that really matters is your own and how you feel about you. Everyone likes different stuff, it’s not a crime. Mommy likes the same stuff you do, you know, all the technology and, erm, all of that, right?” He starts, rocky. Ayla looks up at him, eyebrows raised, judgemental look in her eyes so he snorts lightly before continuing. “I’m obviously not that good at it--”

“The other day you were going to throw your iPad away because you put in the wrong password ten times in a row.” More of those judgemental looks.

“Right,” he presses his lips together in amusement. “But me and mommy are still friends, right?”

“Mhmm,” she agrees, reluctantly, biting down on her bottom lip like she’s mauling it all over. She’s way too smart for her own good, sometimes, but he hopes she’ll trust him on this one.

“And fine,” he mocks annoyance, sighing heavily, as he sways her a little from side to side, “Maybe your dad’s opinion matters a little, too.”

She pulls a sour face and he laughs, pulling her in for a hug. More serious, he tells her, “And your dad thinks you’re pretty great, okay? So don’t worry too much.”

The sun will still rise in the morning, he reminds himself. Don’t worry too much.

She nods against his shoulder, before pulling back a little, trying to hide her excitement by pouting a little. “Can we have ice cream after?”

That little sneaky-- “Well played, miss Queen.” 

She giggles, loud and bold, tiny hands pressed against his neck. “Thanks, daddy.” He only gets a half-assed kiss pressed to his cheek before she’s running off towards a table full of crayons.

“Is it too late for me to start the car while you grab her?” He asks Felicity when she slips her hand around his arm, leaning into him.

“I took so many ambiens I can’t feel my face,” she informs him in a deadpan manner, tight smile fixed on her face. “Maybe it’s better if you drive.”

“Isn’t this why we have Roy? So he can drive our getaway car while we kidnap our own child?”

She snorts, patting his arm, eyes fixated on their daughter who’s already working on a drawing with another girl while babbling to a boy with brown hair, obviously feeling right at home. “From the look of it, I think it’s more our problem than hers.”

“Yeah,” he answers, absentmindedly, rubbing a hand over his face. “She’s making me buy her ice cream after school.”

She huffs in response, looking up at her husband as she narrows her eyes. “And to think I already promised her a new stuffed animal.”

“We’re letting her spend too much time with Thea. I vividly remember her ending up with three ponies at the age of eight because she singlehandedly convinced each of us to buy her one.”

“It’s the Queen charm. Apparently no one is immune to it. Not even them.”

“Hey,” he says, offended as the teachers starts shooing most of the parents off and they start walking back towards their car. “I’ve never heard you complain before.”

“That’s because it’s convenient most of the time. Like, when you’re running for mayor or when you need to get some intel for one of our,” she lowers her voice, “nightly escapades. Not when I’m trying to watch Black Mirror and you want to make-out. Or when I just spent thirty minutes ironing a dress that you manage to get off within less than one tenth of that time.”

He raises his eyebrows at the smug look on her face. “Okay. No more making out.”

“Fine with me,” she forces out, face stoic. He’s not going to get to her.

He lowers his face to hers, voice low and husky and Felicity sincerely hopes no one is watching them being like this on a kindergarten parking lot. “Are you sure?”

She blinks up at his stupid blue eyes, that after all these years still have the same stupid knee-wobbling effect on her, about to give in. Her eyes flicker down to his lips and then back up to his eyes, before backing up. “See? You’re doing it again!”

He laughs, pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek. “I’ll turn it down a notch from now on, promise.”

She sends him a wary look, straightening her coat a little. It takes everything in her not to let out a hoarse ‘don’t’. She like, still has her dignity and stuff.

(By the way her neck’s flushed and the way she presses him against the door later on tell him that she doesn’t mind the charm that much.)

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, requests are welcome! if you like to seee more of a particular person or pairing or a moment in their life, let me know!:) you can also message me on tumblr (newwaystofallapart13), but im rarely on there so i can't promise anything! THANKS FOR ALL THE SUPPORT GUYS<3


	10. you're my best friend (you make me live)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy & Donna + cocktails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the bitch is back
> 
> song in the title is youre my best friend from queen which i know is originally a romantic song but donT GO THERE

.

The first time he meets Donna Smoak, well. It's an experience.

She arrives, dressed in a leopard dress, hair closer to God than he'll ever be, leaving red marks of lipstick on both his cheeks as she squeezes him until he can't breathe.

"Well, I'd always hoped to dress my first grandchild in cute matching clothes but since we skipped that part maybe we could jump straight to the cocktails, hmh?"

"Mom," Felicity interjects, firmly, brows furrowed together as Donna waves her off. "Oh, please honey, get your panties out of that twist." She plucks some imaginary lint off his shoulder, straightening out his hoodie. "He's almost thirteen! Which practically makes him an adult in our culture."

"I think you're confusing Vegas culture with a bar mitzvah." Felicity crosses her arms over her chest. "Don't feed him any alcohol or your grandma privileges are gone."

Donna hisses, pressing a hand to her heart as she sighs, dramatically. "Don't call me grandma, okay? Call me something cool and hip," she throws her arm around his shoulder, turning him towards the door, "Mami. Or just Donna. Isn't that a thing? Calling your grandma by her first name? Let's make it a thing."

"Mom, I'm serious! Do not feed him alco—" is the last desperate cry from Felicity he's able to make out before the door falls shut behind them.

"I love my daughter but she's _so_ uptight." She slides her sunglasses over her nose, wiggling her eyebrows. "She should learn to live a little."

They don't get cocktails, exactly, but she gets arrested for trespassing when she wants to take him go-karting at a place that's already closed. She flirts her way out of it, and he doesn't even need to promise he won't tell his parents, because honestly? Coolest. Grandma. Ever.

.

"Well, what about her?" Donna points over at one of the waitresses who's leaning over the counter to give an order to the chef.

"She has a good ass," he comments approvingly, stuffing a fry into his mouth before swallowing it down with a swig of his 'sex on the beach'. As an afterthought, he adds, "But I'm not really into blondes."

She actually gapes over at him, long pink fingernails digging into the edge of the table. "Excuse me?"

He raises his eyebrows at her, unimpressed. " _ou're_ my grandma." Kind of. He's still not completely at ease with the whole adoptive family taking over his actual family, because his actual family was shit. A small part of him still fears they weren't just shitty to him, they were shitty _because_ of him. And he doesn't want that to happen to anyone else.

"You're right," she admits, smiling sweetly, patting down her hair as she adds, softer and less confident, "But, still. I look good, right?"

He's about to tell her she looks fine when her face lights up, eyes landing on a girl with a pink bow in her hair, light reflecting off her braces as she laughs at something her friend's saying.

"Donna, she's totally still in middle school," he groans, taking a handful of fries and cramming them all into his mouth at once before she has the chance to say anything.

She grimaces uncomfortably, before pursing her lips thoughtfully. "So you're into older women?"

Not exactly. He's just not into _children_.

He shrugs, starting on his burger and Donna reaches out to put her hand on his wrist, schemingly looking over at a brown-haired, curvy woman standing in line for the cash register, nodding her head slightly towards her. She thinks she's subtle, but she's never.

"Jesus, not _that_ old," he almost chokes on the food in his mouth, about to flush it down with his drink when the rest of the family walks in. He hadn't really planned on a family gathering, but Felicity lived for Big Belly Burger and as soon as she heard they were eating dinner there, she insisted on coming.

"Mom, he's fifteen," Felicity presses, grin fading off her face quickly, making a move to grab his drink away from him, coat and purse hanging on her free arm.

"It's _virgin_ ," she hisses darkly, her grip as strong on the glass as Felicity's, who eyes her down for a minute before giving her the benefit of the doubt. Or, she decides the hassle's really not worth it. Donna would kick her own daughter's ass over a virgin cocktail and there's not a single sorry bone in his body that doubts it.

He's shoving the bags of clothes Donna got him (with Oliver's credit card) in between his legs to make more room in the booth. And if he ends up squeezed against Thea, well. So be it.

He's moving aside to give the brunette some more space to sit down when he notices Donna looking at him, one of those secret smiles on her face, like she knows everything and he knows nothing. Which is annoying.

"Just right, huh?" She whispers under her breath as soon as she ends up next to him because Felicity and Oliver were trying to fit in their booth, too, and pokes him in the ribs.

"Donna," he mutters warningly, and Thea and Felicity are too caught up in their conversation about what burger they're going to sin with to notice, but Oliver sends him a pitying look like he's been there. Donna just smiles innocently, going on to gush over Thea's dress and then complain about her own daughter's 'lack of sequins'.

_You don't know the half of it, Oliver, you don't know the half of it._

.

"The adventures of Donna and Roy Smoak," she gushes, squeezing him tightly in her arms as she hops up and down out of pure enthusiasm. She smells like cotton candy and sweet alcohol. "Roy Smoak- _Queen_?" She corrects herself, sending him a questioning glance.

"It's still Harper, you know," he answers, considerably less excited. "Like it's been for the past five years."

"Don't ruin it, sourpuss," she informs him, eyebrows raised to express she's completely unimpressed with the grumpy look on his face. She takes his head in both hands and uses her thumb to smooth out the skin on his forehead. "Don't frown so much either, I've never seen a kid your age with a wrinkle this big."

Then, she takes his arm and pulls him along, passed the coffee shops and fast food restaurants and out of the airport. She takes small steps when she walks, and it's not until he looks down that he realizes she's wearing heels the length of his pointer-finger, but he still has to try and keep up.

"It's a pity your folks couldn't get the weekend off," she comments, offhandedly, and she's smiling while she says it, but there's a sad look in her eyes. "You'd think Oliver being the CEO of the company his wife works at would give them more free time."

He just hums in response, and tries to get a cab to stop as she pulls him along the sidewalk because she 'knows a spot'.

"Maybe they just don't want to see _me_ ," she adds, casually, glancing at him sideways to gauze his reaction. Unfortunately for her, he has a killer poker face.

"That, or Felicity's eight months pregnant, Donna."

She stops them abruptly, sending him a way too emotional look. He doesn't really _do_ emotional. "You know you'll always be my grandbaby, too, right? No matter how old you'll get, kid."

"Donna," he presses, looking around awkwardly at the busy crowd surrounding around them. He doesn't really do emotional. Especially not in busy crowds.

"No, I'm serious," she sniffs, patting at the bottom of her eyes with a tissue she collected from the bottom of her fluffy neon-pink handbag. "You'll always be my first."

"Your first grandchild," he echoes, quickly, eyes wide, checking to see if anyone overheard her. He grabs her by the shoulders, because he needs her to understand the difference. "Your first _grandchild_."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Same difference," she waves him off, pursing her lips. "What I was trying to say is that family—it's, it's not about _blood_ , it's about who you go to at the end of the day and," she drifts off, smiling brightly as she pinches his cheek like he's still the twelve year old little kid who came into her daughter's life out of nowhere, who she just accepted from the get-go, no questions asked, "drink cocktails with." She rolls her eyes, brushing some lint off his shoulder. "Or would like to, anyway."

The corners out of his mouth turn up a little, and he shakes his head. His face is still blank, he knows this, but inside, he feels— _good_. Wanted. For all that it's worth, considering he doesn't have much to compare her to, she's the best grandma he's ever had. "I guess you want another hug now?"

She scoffs, playfully as she wraps her arms around his shoulders. "Don't pretend you don't enjoy them, kid."

.

He doesn't really know why he gets into fights, at school and at home, especially not the ones that don't make sense. Like this one.

He _knows_ he's wrong. He stayed out too late, and woke up the baby in the middle of the night because he was too high to be able to tell how to discreetly walk up a staircase and close a damn door. He even almost burned the house down when he tried to bake himself an egg.

He doesn't even catch the first half of Felicity's ramble, just sees the way her eyebrows are wrinkled together and how her eyes are shiny and it scares him, that he could do that, to her, to someone who took him in when he was so lost. During every fight, part of him wonders if this is it, this is going to be the final straw, and she's going to kick him out.

That is, until Oliver pulls down his headphone so it's around his neck instead.

"Like you never stayed out late," he spits, eyes dangerously narrowed, and interrupting Felicity. "Or did some weed. Not while you attended six different private schools, and especially not at one of the _four,_ was it, colleges you went to, right?"

Oliver just huffs, humoured, shaking his head to himself. His arms are crossed over his chest as he takes in a sharp breath, before finally looking at him, collected but Roy knows by the way his jaw is clenched that he is pissed off. "You've got some nerve."

Donna is cradling the baby—his _sister_ , he thinks—in her arms as she looks from one person to another with a confused frown, all the while trying to shush her.

"I never did anything to endanger a three month old baby, what if I hadn't seen you left the stove on?" Of course. He resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's all about her.

"Nevermind what he did, or _I_ did," Felicity insists, like _she_ 's ever done anything bad in her life, "We never wanted any of that for you. That's the whole parenting thing, you know? You want better for your kid—"

"You're _not_ my mom," he bites, jaw clamped shut and he doesn't care how she looks like she's about to cry, or how Oliver looks like he just personally stabbed him in the back. He is just still _so_ angry, all the time. And a lot of the time he doesn't know how to feel all that rage, without wanting to explode.

"Well, I'll be damned," Donna starts, calm and collected, but her eyes are narrowed as she hands the baby off to Oliver, putting her hands on her hips.

"Mom," Felicity tries, soft but it comes out squeaky. "Just leave it."

"No, Felicity," she says, making sure no one mistakes her shaky voice for anything but anger as she turns back to him. "He needs to hear this."

He crosses his arms, scoffing. There is anything she could say he hasn't already told himself.

"Felicity and Oliver took you in when you were just a twelve year old brat. Frankly, you were a twelve year old brat with an already extensive juvenile criminal record, but _they_ still did it. I wouldn't have done it," she admits, genuinely, giving the both of them an earnest look, shaking her head slightly. "I would've been too selfish. To try and raise you better?" She huffs. "I can't speak for Oliver's parents, but I can speak for myself when I say it was a whole lotta better than how she was raised." She sends a shaky smile Felicity's way before turning back to him, taking a step closer. "I'm not asking you to call them 'mommy' and 'daddy', I'm asking you to respect the fact they're your parental figures, whether you like it or not. So apologize. Because they're not only there for you when you think you need it, but also when you think you don't. Like right now."

She lets that sink in a little, only to dramatically pick back up, "Because they care about you and don't want you drinking alcohol when your underaged and will even fight their poor middle-aged mother over it, and nag and nag about you making your homework because they want you to succeed, and," she sends him a pointed look, " _yell_ at you when you're being an insufferable ass."

She leans closer and pats his arm, quietly into his ear she tells him, "For the record, you're just supposed to sit there and _take it_. That's all they want from you."

He purses his lips, the frown slowly dissipating from his face as he looks at his parental figures. Felicity looks a little guilty, but Oliver isn't afraid to look like he personally whispered every word into Donna's ear.

He sighs, sinking down on the couch as he watches Felicity's eyes light up, bumping her arm lightly against Oliver's, and Donna smiling all-too-proudly. "Okay. Give it to me."

By all means, their verbal smackdown was nothing compared to Donna's.

.

She does however, finally offer him a real cocktail on his 18th birthday. "In the land of our people the legal drinking age is 18, so bottoms up."

"Vegas?" He asks dumbfounded, staring at the pink frilly drink she shoved towards him on the bar. He's had beer before, but it feels wrong to tell her this when she's so excited.

"No, Israel, you dummy." She nudges him with her elbow, back towards the bar, eyes on the look-out, talking out of the side of her mouth. "I would've gotten you something stronger but I think your mom was on to me. Eyes like a hawk that one."

"I don't know what's been up her hoo-hah for the past week but it's draining me out," she complains, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder like she's making a point, looking at Roy for confirmation.

Because, _righ_ t, Oliver was off with Sara and Diggle on some investigation on an 'island' which was the whole reason they had to postpone his birthday party and he was hanging with his grandma instead. Whatever.

He spots Thea, talking to some guy she's waitressing. He knows she's only flirting to make extra tips, but it makes his blood boil and feel like he should go over there and—

"Yeah, she's always ten times more on edge when Oliver is gone," he notes, absentmindedly, downing the drink at once before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Donna perks up at this, turning towards him with wide eyes, then pokes her bottom lip out, nodding like she's impressed. "Looks like you take after your good old granny after all, kid."

He just makes a noise in acknowledgement, that sounds more like a groan than anything, watching Thea laugh at some joke that's probably not even funny. Suddenly she turns her head, as if she could feel him watching her, and waves, sending him a wink. He smiles back but she's already back to the guy.

He clenches his hands into fists, gritting his teeth and Donna takes a sip from her own drink, by sucking on the tiny straw lodged in her martini.

"Calm down, kid. Jealousy isn't too good of a look on you," she whispers like it's a secret, although she still sounds quite loud.

Roy shakes his head to himself, trying to relax a little as he rolls his shoulders back. She puts a hand on his forearm, squeezing lightly, that all-knowing look on her face. "She's a pretty thing that girl, ain't she?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he mutters, lamely, and for the first time the loud dance music is making his head pound.

"I'm dumb but I'm not blind," she continues, slurping loudly on her drink before putting her hand up to order another one. "I've watched you look at that girl like she hung the moon since you were twelve years old."

"Don't," he starts, sighing but she shakes her head, linking her arm through his as the barman refills their drinks. "I also noticed how she's been looking at you. Ever since you grew into that body," she taps a fake nail to his temple thoughtfully, "and mind of yours."

"Donna, I appreciate it but I don't really think she's into me."

"Not if you act like this no."

"Like what?" He asks, obligatory as he takes a swig of his cocktail, the taste not so bad as it was at first.

She raises her eyebrows, tilting her head slightly. "A _pussy_."

He almost chokes on his drink, coughing loudly as Donna hands him a few napkins, keeping one to dab at his dress shirt that Felicity made him wear.

"I'm sorry, kid, but it's the truth. Girls like a little," she shakes her upperbody, purple sequined dress blinding him, " _confidento_."

He doesn't really remember the word for confidence from his Spanish class, but he's sure that's not it. It seems useless to point it out though, besides, he doesn't actually care.

She slaps his arm, simultaneously gulping down her drink, foregoing the straw completely. "A little grit!"

"What also works great is showing them how great of a time you're having without them," she adds, shrugging a little, obviously already a little buzzed. She pushes him towards the dancefloor, wiggling her eyebrows, "Now dance with me!"

.


End file.
